Station Master

Life at the farm changed dramatically in late August when Christi and Madelina left for pastures new. The former bagged himself a new managerial job at a fruit farm near Chichester while picker extraordinaire Constantine returned to Romania for four weeks, leaving the farm three people down.

So somehow I found myself acting as temporary supervisor on some days, manning the station and doing my best to make sure the raspberries and strawberries left the farm as good – or dare I say it, better – than they did under Christi’s reign.

The move was the making of me on the farm as it meant far more interaction with the pickers and a lot more fun. Dare I say it, but the atmosphere changed tremendously after Christi and Madelina’s departure and tasks felt a lot more relaxed and jovial.

The station at Ford is a large covered trailer with trays of empty punnets and scales for weighing, while it’s much more modest at Redhill, being a space wherever the scales are placed, typically on a stack of empty grey trays.

Tonight Matthew, I am going to be a temporary supervisor at Westlands Farm.

After pickers have filled their punnets they stick their number on the side of the tray before bringing it to the station for a weighing and quality check. Each picker has a number to allow traceability and tallying up, as more punnets mean more money for the giver.

The best way to check raspberries is to gently roll the berries with your fingers, with anything squishy being removed as chances are it will turn to mush by the time it gets to a store.

Strawberries can be more difficult to check, especially if the punnets are deeper. They can be overripe (dark red), underripe (too white at the top), too small, wet or affected by mildew. Sometimes caterpillars and birds take a nibble, with the latter’s impact looking suspiciously like human teeth marks.

It’s quite an important job as we started picking for Tesco later in the season – more about that later – but I enjoyed the responsibility, while being a yard higher than the pickers also imbued that sense of responsibility and power.

I probably was a bit too strict with checking and I found the trays piling up at times as I pursued my quest for berry perfection. But my first go was a success, as less than ten berries were removed during the second check at the packhouse, and I found myself manning the station on most days until Christi’s replacement arrived.

Because I was spending so much time with the pickers I decided to learn some basic Bulgarian and the response was immediate. Just saying Blagodaria – thank you in Bulgarian – went down a treat and it wasn’t too long before the pickers and I were having the most basic conversations.

The most memorable and most basic of basic conversations took place in Field House about a week after I started learning. It was break time and Dimitar was asking where to put his tray for checking.

Dimitar: Tuca? (Here?)

Me: Da (Yes)

I said Da without even thinking, but Stanimir and Iva were walking past when this happen and went “oooh, bravo Paul” as if to recognize this linguistic achievement. These days I’m always being asked how I am (Kak Stay is how are you? In Bulgarian) and I’m continually trying to mix up the response, which can be good (Dubray), awesome (Strahoatno) or just great (Prosto Strahoatno).

I loved the interaction while being on the station as most of the pickers had their own catchphrases. Zhivko would usually say “Oh Da” on approaching, while Octay would typically say “Yeah Baby” or “Oh yeah”. Stanimir would say something like “I know it looks like two trays but it’s ten, isn’t it?” while many would reply “you’re welcome” in Bulgarian if I said Blagodaria or Mnogo Blagodaria after accepting their trays for checking.

Then there’s Aldin, who delivered an endless supply of high fives and an encouragement to dance. Occasionally on Friday afternoons I would turn my phone to its highest volume and start a disco, with Blinding Lights going down well in the fields south of Bishop’s Waltham.

The pickers do have their tricks, though, and I slightly regret not being tougher with the worst culprits. Most deliver two trays at a time to the station and more than one had a habit of putting an underfilled one at the bottom and walking off before I could comment, while a few went for quantity over quality. Many took an interest in the tally sheet and I was encouraged to keep it out of arm’s way by Graham, as some pickers (present bunch excluded) have added a few tally marks in the supervisor’s absence in the past.

Being supervisor also meant I achieved a bucket list item, as it gave me the chance to drive a tractor. When the pickers finish their row and move on down the tunnels, the station has to keep up as it’s not fair to make them carry two trays of raspberries of strawberries 200 yards or more, especially when it’s raining.

The weighing station at Ford on a very wet Wednesday afternoon in September.

The trailer is pulled by a Merlo tractor and Ryan was the first to hand me the keys. On the second go I nearly reversed the trailer into the refrigeration van behind, but I quickly realized before disaster struck and I was soon driving up and down the track with consummate ease. I never tired of getting in the cab and driving it, even it was just a few dozen yards at a time.

I also found myself driving the refrigeration van again during this period, albeit just around the farm and not on the road, often reversing the van up to the end of the trailer for tray loading.

Driving a tractor! One more tick on the bucket list.

It became the norm after a while but doing it at Redhill was a different and more daunting kettle of fish, as there is much less space between the glasshouses and the corners are tighter.

Being supervisor at Redhill can be a bit of a runaround as the pickers move from one house to the next fairly quickly. It’s a tough job for the supervisor as they’ve got to tally up all the trays, check the berries and load the trays into the back of the van before moving it all to the next house after the last picker has left the building. Sometimes Ryan or Graham would come along and do the loading and driving thing, but there were occasions when I ran the gig on my own.

It was never easy but I took a lot of pride in running it all smoothly and getting the van from one station to another without incident, especially when it meant reversing the Bedford around 50 yards down a narrow track to the final house. Validation came from Aldin towards the end of a session in September when he said: “You’ve done a good job. You keep it going.”

I’ll admit to being a better deputy than a manager, but being in charge of a well oiled working team was a nice feeling. I like it, or as they say in Bulgarian: Haress Va May.