CRAIGLANG farm’s oldest residents have had a hard day…
“Come away in Jack, sit doon and tak’ the weight aff yer pins.”
“Oh, aye, Victor, thanks, I’m fair cream crackered, so I am.”
“So Jack, whit hae you been up tae this fine day?”
“Well Victor it was non-stop frae the word go, I tell ye. When I’d finished the milking, it wis time to get the lambs loaded for the market and then ah had a meetin’ wi the grain merchant and then I’d tae phone the bank manager, an the back o’ denner time I had tae finish ploughing that field I wis meanin’ to get done yesterday when the lad frae the department turned up just as I was headin’ aff tae the accountants after I’d finished filling in the census form.”
“Very same thing happened tae ma’sel! Ye ken, Jack, it’s a real bummer when yer work gets disrupted an’ ye’ve hee-haw to show for it at the end of the day.”
A muffled noise of someone furtively listening into the conversation is heard on the other side of the kitchen door – the sort made by someone who is keen to give the impression that they haven’t been eavesdropping.
“Come awa in Isa, we dinna like tae think o’ you standin’ oot there on yer ain in yer search fur some juicy gossip.”
“Naw, we wouldnae wan’t ye to feel left oot in the cauld.”
The door opens and Isa struggles in, hands and arms full of bags: “Oh, ay boys thanks, I was just aboot tae knock, so ah wuz.”
Isa collapses into a chair, bags and packages falling everywhere: “Ach Jack ‘n’ Victor, it’s an awfa job so, so it is.”
“Whit’s that then Isa?”
“Oh ye ken, runnin’ a’ they different businesses – it fair taks it oot oh ye, does it no? That’s five times I’ve been doon to the Post office the day tae get all this mail order stuff awa in time fur Christmas, ye ken. I’ll tell ye these internet orders are killin’ me, so they are.”
“Aye, Isa – there’s nane o’ us gettin’ ony younger either, am I no right Victor?”
“Aye yer richt enough there, Jack – but it’ll be a gey few years afore ony o’ us can think about retiring – somebody’s got to make sure that the average age o’ the decision-makers in the farming industry is kept up…”

… or so ran my imagination as one of the more recent sets of agricultural statistics revealed that pretty nearly a third of what they termed the ‘major decision-makers’ in the field of Scottish agriculture are over the official retirement age. Which all means that not only are these folk ‘Still Game ... but they’re still in charge.
Now, I’ve no idea just how this statistics compares with other walks of life, but while the increasing average age of those involved in the industry is a source of worry for many of those who comment on the industry, from my own point of view it has had at least one benefit.
For, as time marches on and I’ve put a few more hours on my own clock, the average age of farmers has rather kindly managed to advance at the sort of rate which, so far at least,  has kept well out in front of my own rate of progress. 
Now, I’m sure that the figure given for the average age of farmers used to be 52, then rose to 55 and then 56 – and now the figure most widely bandied about has risen to 58.
So, this apparent rate of acceleration has ensured that I can still happily – if somewhat misguidedly – convince myself that I remain one of the younger ones in the industry.
However, looking a bit closer at the statistics the headline figure actually masks the fact that there’s not a huge difference in the numbers of those running farms falling into the 45-54, 55-64 and the 65 and over brackets – and I’m not convinced that this is really all that different from a lot of other businesses.
For – despite what we often hear about people becoming internet millionaires at the age of 22 and people selling their start-up companies at huge profit to be able to retire at the age of 30 – in this new world of the JAMs (just about managing), having to keep going well after what used to be considered the compulsory retirement age is a simple and often unavoidable fact of life.
But, while the growing age of those running the farming sector is often pounced upon by individuals who are keen to portray the industry as being moribund and stuck in the past, there are plenty of other statistics lying in these reports which could be considered equally disappointing and indicative of an industry which needs to step into the modern world, without purely blaming the older generation.
The same statistics which highlighted the growing age profile also show that only 17% of those managing farm businesses had completed a full agricultural course, while a further 10% had dipped their toe in the water with a course lasting less than two years. 
This effectively means that, even in this day and age, pretty close to three-quarters of those running farming businesses have no formal training qualifications, relying purely on practical experience.
And, while there’s absolutely no doubt that a lot can be said for ‘learning on the job’, the further revelation that only around one in a hundred of us have participated in any sort of vocational training during the past year shows we’re either all pretty damn smart – or pretty damn complacent.
However, there is a spark of self awareness in all this – and I can see that the first signs of a curmudgeonly defence of the older generation might simply be due to the fact that father time marches ever forward for all of us. 
And, while I hope I don’t quite fall into the Jack and Victor bracket yet, there is a perhaps a sad realisation that it will come eventually. 
Now, where did I leave my bunnet and my pipe?