Cork Farmers To Descend on the City

3rd Dec 2008

When Mud Comes To Town
Danny Elbow

If the roads and pavements of Cork city were covered in slippery ice earlier in the week they're going to be festooned in a very different substance this Monday as the traditional farmers' day-out kicks off.

Farmer at leisure.

Usually burdened with horrendous working hours trying to keep their heads above the rising economic waters this is viewed as the main opportunity for Cork's rural contingent to come to town to do some Christmas shopping.

Cautious of dual carriageways, distrusting of traffic lights and suspicious of dealing in anything but hard cash (preferably punts) the farmers approach the city with immense trepidation. That's why they come on the same day - there's safety in numbers.

As fellow Corkonians, city dwellers are obliged to be as understanding, friendly and helpful as possible when our rural brothers hit the town, even though some Cork farmers who work in border areas may be mistaken for Kerrymen due to their accents.

Where's the Queenshh Old Cashle gonta?

The day trippers are clearly identifiable:If the day is cloudy and not so cold you will be able to spot farmers by their insistence on wearing white socks and sandals.

This groovy footwear is only ever seen at the ploughing championships or on the Salthill promenade when Cork farmers go on their summer holidays to Galway (with good reason it's judged by Cork farmers to be the safest city in Ireland outside the People's Republic) so feel privileged to witness this unfailing fashion trend close-up.

Without going into graphic detail, the 'fragrance' of farmers can be quite unique and city folk may find it an unusual addition to the myriad of urban whiffs.

Most farmers have their annual baths on Christmas Eve making queuing far more efficient as those wimpy city slickers queuing around them wilt under the pungent bang of farm and sidle off - much to the delight of the day trippers.

John Deere all the way

Farmers are far more likely to strike up a bit of banter with anyone around them too. While the wife is trying on another pair of shoes he'll happily introduce himself to the nearest ear, citing his acreage, milk quota and EU grant status by way of introduction.

Most farmers take phenomenal delight in exploring the city's many escalators. It is believed that in the mid-nineties an official tour was organisedby Macra na Feirme leaders to explore Cork's quickly expanding treasure trove of mechanical stairs.

Large well-built men with red faces and hands the size of mechanical grabbers spent hours going up and down adjacent escalators with smiles the size of ploughs on their heads.

Overcooked food: nice one.

There was always a particular fascination with the flat belt escalator in Merchant's Quay which many farmers hoped could be adapted to ferry lame cows in and out of milking parlours twice a day to save them carry them on their backs.

It is believed that a small group of people are still keeping this mysterious fan club alive and are likely to be spotted in the Cornmarket Street area taking checking out the new front-of-house escalators at TK Maxx.

Giant construction cranes strewn around the city are not to be confused with rotating roof top cafes. If you see a farmer leading his welly clad family up the ladder of one of these monstrous metal beasts in search of "a fine view and a nice cuppa tae" do your best to deter them and point them in the direction of the nearest outlet serving plain food.

You won't catch any farmer noshing on fettuccini carbonara or sipping espressos in the city's cafés. There'll be none of that fancy stuff for the county's farmers because the culinary desires of the farming community are plain and simple: Farmers seek carvery.

The thing about carvery is that it settles that Irish fear of eating anything that might be undercooked or foreign. Carvery food has not only been cooked well, it has also been left under hot lamps for hours, possibly even days, clinging to the dishes they were cooked in.

Most Irish farms now have a trampoline. Thanks Aldi.

Any foodstuff, like roast potatoes and roast beef that appears dried-out and void of any moisture is considered safe and tasty.

If a farmer can't find a carvery then the family will gladly settle for burgers and chips with half a bottle of vinegar and most of the ketchup available thrown into the mix.

Rural families also tend not to talk much while they feed so don't think they've had a big falling out if the only sounds from the table next to you are slurping and munching. Agriculture is far from a priority with the Dublin Government so the poor devils have to work long hours. You wouldn't want to be wasting time yapping over dinner when there's silage to be cut, cattle to be fed and 60-page EU-grant forms to be filled out.

If you're thinking of bringing some smallies to see Santy then you might want to avoid the Farmer's Day out as no farming family's visit to the city is complete without an audience with the big man in red and white.

In deepest darkest Conna, Doneraile, Ballydehob, Allihies and Newtwopothouse there may be little opportunity again for a farmer's kids to visit the urban Santy caves and make weighty requests for toy tractors, trailers and the obligatory giant trampoline that seems to take pride of place in the front garden almost every rural homestead in the county.