The thing is, I like urban farming. Rooftop gardens and window boxes excite me. Balconies filled with beans and tomatoes give me hope. Nonetheless, the ‘next big thing’ in urban horticulture has left me cold.
As the bluetongue virus sinks its teeth into British livestock, there is one appalling certainty: like the outbreaks of Mad Cow Disease and foot-and-mouth before it, some farmers will see no way out, and take their own lives. Farmers in Britain are the profession second most likely to commit suicide (after, bizarrely, dentistry).
