EVERY year, month and day, I realise how fortunate and privileged I am to have grown up and spent most of my life in the countryside. It’s not only the space, appreciating the seasons, the wildlife, the plant life, the arable crops and the livestock, but, most importantly, it’s the people who live and work there and understand the complexity of their environment. I was equally fortunate that both my parents had a love and understanding of the natural world through their own experiences. Perhaps even more so for my father when, during his rather disjointed young life, he ended up at school at Gordonstoun and was introduced to the wilds of Scotland, both land and sea. Scotland had its influence on my mother, too, as did the big skies of Norfolk, and the huge fields and marshes of the Sandringham Estate. Windsor’s Home Park and Great Park were a constant presence for her, as they were for all of us. They had horses, dairies, hens, pigs—you could never be bored as a child. Windsor was and is a haven of peace, although not so quiet since the growth of air travel—until the lockdown.
Superficially, not much has changed since I was young; the Jersey herd is still there, although the cows now enjoy a robotic parlour. There are Sussex cattle in the Great Park and the crops are a different mix, but the forest is still there, as are ponds and wet areas, the Savill Gardens and Frogmore House Gardens. Buildings and skills that the Prince Consort would have recognised.
I am fortunate to have grown up and spent most of my life in the countryside
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