AFTER many months of storing fleeces from the summer clip of our flock, the wool has been sold and collected from the farm under licence. I had received several kind enquiries about the fleeces, but the restrictions on movement placed on sheep also applied to their fleeces. Astonishingly we have also been paid for the wool with suspicious speed, as in previous years we have not received a cheque for up to 18 months. Perhaps the paucity of the cheque was the reason for its swiftness this year - just over £1 a fleece. If we had had to pay for clipping, it would have hardly covered the cost.

Yesterday, John's cousin from Bradford came with his family at the farm. He has worked all his life in the wool mills, carding, combing and spinning. To further his career he has even completed an Open University course in business administration, but despite his best efforts, last week he was declared redundant as the mill is closing down. "I've seen the quantity of wool used go down and down over the years," he said. "Everyone wants fleeces now, but not wool ones - the sort made from polyester or recycled plastic. Strange to think that the fleeces on people's backs are probably made from old lemonade bottles." He has been offered jobs abroad, from Pakistan to China, to manage the growth of their knitting industry, but as he would be unable to take his family with him, the opportunities have not appealed to him. When you combined the pessimism on our side about the state of the wool industry, and the redundancies in the manufacturing industries concerned with wool, the news is not good.

Land work on the farm continues apace. I have just taken John his tea in the last bean field to be combined. This field was sown with tick beans for pigeon feed in the spring, so we at least hope that the pigeon racing industry is healthy. The market for specialist beans has historically been good, and they are coming off the field scarcely in need of drying. A good sign. Clouds of dust tell me where he is if I did not know already. The straw chopper on the back of the combine relishes the dry bean stalks and pounds them into a course powder.

The combine is brought home for all the moving parts to be blasted clean with the air pressure jet. Several years ago we had a fire in the combine, started by a spark across wheat dust. Then we used to take the combine to a nearby garage to have her innards dusted down, now it is done every night, and even half way through the day if necessary, at home. The dogs hate the jet but I think it is magic even if it means that all the windows on the farmhouse are now covered with the dust that has been blown off the combine.

I have nothing but praise for our local fire brigade, many of whom are part-timers, who have been round the area giving fire precaution advice and offering to fit smoke detectors in houses. My mother-in-law was delighted and I feel much happier now that she has a correctly fitted smoke detection system. The fireman even checked the alarms in our holiday cottage, despite my having lost their original letter, and changed one of the smoke detectors that was faulty. Can't expect them to check the combine out though.

Updated: 09:59 Thursday, September 20, 2001