When we bought the farm back in 2012, we had a few months of deliberation beforehand to decide which breeds and types of animals we wanted to rear.

John knew it would be beef cattle, but which breed? In the end, he decided on Luing cattle, as they originate from a wild and remote Scottish isle. Used to being blown and buffeted on windy cliff tops, the Lake District was bordering on tropical for these hardy beasts.

We started with six heifers and a rented bull called Excalibur! (Obviously a farming joke.) And so our herd grew year by year. We kept the girls to breed from and sold the boys on. The first bull of our own to arrive was called Wallace, a very appropriate name for a proud son of Scotland. Sadly, after three years he had to move to pastures new, as he couldn’t breed with his own offspring. Angus, Yoshi and now Alfie all followed.

For me, the biggest benefit of having beef cattle is seeing the calves spend ten months roaming the fields with their parents, until the day they move on to graze at another farm until the inevitable.

You’d be forgiven for thinking Alfie has only one job, but to be fair the bulls have all taken on parental duties. Many times, the bulls will be lying down chewing the cud whilst surrounded by a circle of calves. I can’t help imagining him saying, “Don’t worry girls, go off and have some free time, I have everything under control.”

John has always had a strict no-name policy when it comes to the cows. However, in a moment of grandparental generosity, he allowed one of the grandies to name the first calf of the season…

“Broccoli” went on to have at least six calves of her own before she left us. It goes without saying, he didn’t make that mistake again.

Fourteen years on, the herd is very much part of the landscape here. New calves still arrive every spring, Alfie still keeps a watchful eye on proceedings, but sadly no other calves have been named after vegetables.