A proud race under threat

"Ivver Sen" has been a fantastic adventure for me, a life-affirming project in every respect. Meeting great people, having the time to research ideas and wander down different avenues even if, in the end, they led nowhere. But usually they did and "Ivver Sen" has produced some amazing stories about Lake District people, past and present. It was been a real pleasure to work with the artist Keith Bowen and to write and publish a book to the exact specifications I determined. To then get so much positive response from readers was the Cumberland rum butter on the scone.

I did not, in writing the book, set out to be a champion of the countryside. I simply wanted to write about a very special breed of people whose way of life has a richness, a depth and a history that is now increasingly under threat. And I have come to the conclusion that if the Lake District is to remain the environment that we know and love - one of the most beautiful places on Earth - then the important role of the fell farmers must not be undervalued.

They have shaped this landscape with their dry stonewalls and the Herdwick sheep that have cropped the fells - super efficient 24 hour, seven days a week lawn mowers without need of an oil change. The fell farmers are now struggling, clinging on in ever diminishing numbers to a way of life that stretches back over the centuries to the time when Norse settlers moved into this land and brought with them the language that is the basis of today"s wonderful Cumbrian dialect and is to be seen in so many of our place names.

At the moment the fell farmers are gradually slipping away and the eventual impact on the landscape of Lakeland could be catastrophic. But it is not just the land. The land breeds people of character, a way of life, the Shepherds meets, the shows, the hound trails and everything that goes with it. If we lose all this we will all be the poorer and the Lake District will be considerably diminished.

At the moment there is talk of farmers becoming what amounts to curators in the Lake District, sort of overseers of a quaint museum or, as Eric Robson put it at the Ivver Sen opening, driving their sheep along a lane at a certain time of day - all prearranged - for the benefit of tourists. That sort of scenario would be a sham and totally humiliating and insulting.

The fell farmers, like their Norse ancestors, are a proud race. They must be encouraged to continue to run real working farms, farms that have a purpose and a role in life, as well as helping, as they always have done, to shape this amazing land we call The Lake District.

Life before "Ivver Sen"

In August 2007 I decided to leave a secure, reasonably well paid job as a magazine editor. It was a job that came with a company car, expenses and all the ice-cold water I could drink from the dispenser in the office kitchen. But I took the plunge and exchanged it all for a life of near penury as a full time writer / publisher.

I am currently poorer but am certainly a hell of a lot happier, and hopefully healthier, since I adopted what I call my Huckleberry Finn lifestyle. Having the time and the sense of freedom to stop and lean over a bridge to watch a trout move effortlessly from side to side in the current of the river below, as the mood takes you, is infinitely preferable to looking at the production brief or losing sleep over the latest angst-ridden management issue at work. Nowadays it"s entirely down to me, I stand or fall by the decisions I make, my intuition, gut instinct . . . and bollocks to market research.

Gone for ever are the daily 60-mile round trips to the office in central Carlisle from my home in Keswick (from which I now work), the 9-5 routine, hastily taken lunches at the desk, endless meetings at which I would invariably have to fight my corner, staff appraisals, balance sheets, revenue, profits and loss and costs (got to keep them down) ad infinitum, deadlines and then a feeling of total exhaustion as I finally drew up outside the house on my return home of an evening, take away curry in hand . . . questioning the meaning of life, collapsing in front of the TV for a sound and visual bite of escapism, slipping between the screen and sleep all the while, before hauling myself upstairs and hitting the pillow before starting all over again.

My carbon foot print was all over the place and I felt as if I was on a conveyor belt and the product was my life . . . rushing away before me in an endless sequence of meetings, appointments that could never, ever be fulfilled. I cared deeply about what I did, took pride, as always, in my work but it was becoming increasingly difficult. It was verging on nightmare and it had to stop. I wanted out. To take a deep breath.

The time, clearly, had come for change.

And so here I am, one year down the line. River Greta Writer is my business and "Ivver Sen" the book is its first publication and I am as proud as hell. I can"t put this book down, even though I have read it countless times. The company and the office are a distant memory. I now spend my time with River Greta Writer and my meetings" tend to be with wildlife on the banks of the River Greta. Trout don"t need annual appraisals; but then neither, in reality, do people. I also have more time for people, to stop and chat, to really listen whereas previously I was always on the move, rushing here there and everywhere and, at times, probably downright rude. Sorry, must dash. My life was running away from me. And for what?

That bloggle in full

"Ivver Sen" the book was launched at the Upfront Art Gallery, Unthank, near Penrith, www.up-front.com on the evening of September 2, 2008 by writer and broadcaster Eric Robson.

Border Crack and Deek Aboot (also under threat) came along and the lovely Kate interviewed Keith Bowen, Jos Naylor and yours truly. The interview with Joss seemed to run and run . . . BBC Radio Cumbria"s Richard Nankivell (hope the spelling"s correct) was also there with a microphone which didn"t appear to be attached to anything but was capable of several million years of recordings.

Many of the characters portrayed in the book came along to look at their likenesses, including Victor Brownlee, Joe Richardson (complete with fir cone) his wife Doris (who had left her purple bonnet at yam), George Birkett and Betty Birkett (nee Richardson), former All Weights wrestling champion Alf Harrington, David Robinson (who reckoned he once beat Alf in a bout), "Skelt" Robinson, Jean and Derick Wilson (minus Percy the Herdwick tup) and lots mair.

It was sek a grand do.

For the record, there are 55 works of art by Keith Bowen in the exhibition. All are also contained in the book. The art exhibition makes for a spectacular display and is well worth a visit before the exhibition ends on October 31. The gallery is open from 10.30am to 4.30pm daily. You can buy a specially autographed copy of the book while you"re at it!

But enough of the plug and back to the blog.

For the record I don"t like the word (blog that is, although plug"s not much better). Blog sounds like something you find at the end of your nose. Bloggle.

I intend to write this bloggle about once a month. Although, who knows, I might write more regularly. Keep me posted and I would love to have your views on the bloggle and on Ivver Sen. Or, for that matter, owt else that occurs to you. Until next time . . . ivver sen.

e-mail me on keithr@rivergretawriter.co.uk