WATCHING the television programme the other night on 'The farmer wants a wife', I was fascinated to hear the range of reasons that ladies of all ages across the country were expressing to assure themselves of the love of a man of the land; love of the countryside, fantasies of collecting eggs from haystacks, large kitchen tables etc.

The programme is following the response to a magazine project to find wives for isolated, and single farmers.

Could be an equal opportunities issue here, I thought. Why wives? I know several lady farmers, few of them daft enough to openly state that they want a husband, however.

My very own man of the land was fast asleep at the time of watching. Toes were sticking out the ends of his socks as they wriggled in the warmth of the fire (I am a distinctly lacking wife when it comes to darning) and a gentle rhythmic snore disturbed my hearing of any more of these ladies' reasoning. Mention the countryside to him at that minute and he would remind you of the cold and sleet of the day and the fact that he was frozen after spending all afternoon clearing out a dike. Not an activity I would like to have accompanied him on, and neither would many of the ladies on the television I expect.

The ladies would also have a whole different language to learn, especially if they married a stock farmer. It can even beat the experts.

Just last week, John tried following up one of the many licences that it now seems we require for sheep and cattle even to munch a mouthful of grass. John had been checking our flock of ewes prior to putting the tups in with them for the annual November 'love-in'.

Pre-foot and mouth, we would have attended several markets to buy in fresh female lambs for the flock - lambs who had been born this spring and were now old enough to put to the tup this autumn. Gimmers. Buying in sheep from other farms brings fresh blood into the flock, as we retain the tups from year to year (if they mange to stay alive and not kill each other in a head-butting contest) and prevents any possibility of in-breeding.

This year, we have no alternative but to put the female lambs born this spring, the gimmers, to the tups that sired them. John did make one attempt to buy in some gimmers from a flock in the neighbourhood. However, a D notice was slapped on the flock in question as the farmer owned a flock in another part of the country that had been contiguously culled when the flock belonging to his neighbour was infected. Very complicated.

So, to keep matters straight, and to ensure that we kept our quota of sheep, even though we have fewer in the flock than we want (25 old ewes having made their exit over the summer and autumn), John decided to inform the Ministry. The experts.

Getting through to the correct department is a nightmare in itself. Lots of 'Push button 1', star signs, etc and being kept on hold, and 'We are here to help you' guff. When he did get though to a voice, it was a very uncertain one. After listening to John's questions, explanations and requests for five minutes without comment there was a long pause.

"Before we start," said the voice eventually, "what's a gimmer and a tup?"

Updated: 11:02 Thursday, November 15, 2001