SOS. Save our shellfish.

I must confess that my mind wandered sitting through our son’s two-and-a-half-hour graduation ceremony.? Understandable really, as you politely applaud over 300 students, and you’re only invested in one, with the apposite academic handshake lasting a few seconds. I’m proud of our boy, though, who has graduated in Rural Land Management from the Royal Agricultural University.?

Where did my day dreaming take me?? What next for Guy, our son?? Why do graduates have to hire a mortar board and gown at vast expense for one day? You have time at moments like this, so I started to internally interrogate the juxtaposition of the pomp on the day (complete with orchestral Tony Britten-esq entrance of the dignitaries as they trooped on stage) in contrast to the academic rigour of Guy’s course and certain lecturers at the RAU.

I was jolted back to consciousness by genuinely unpleasant stomach cramps.? Without dwelling on the detail, we had been struck by a gift of oysters whilst on holiday the week before in Cornwall.? Sourced very locally and genuinely our guest informed us, demonstrated by the fact that payment was made via an honesty box, the shellfish had knocked our entire team out for 48 hours with the aftereffects still being felt three weeks later. Evil.

The ceremony continues, with all the undergrads bestowed their scholastic prizes.? Then the postgrads. Interest piqued here as I played a game in my head awarding scores to the most obscure thesis subject.? The winner majored on brain activity in population of domestic and semi feral native pony breeds.? ?

And then the Honorary Fellowships.? One to the eminent Welsh farmer, Abi Reader, who has done fine work in highlighting the plight of marginal farming in her country and the challenges of being a female in agriculture.? Laudable.? The next was Henry Dimbleby, celebrated because of his work with food and schools and nutrition, and because he is an important flea in the ear of policymakers.? A kindred spirit, of sorts.

My eyes drifted down to our programme of events.? There was a biog for the dignitary handing out these honours.? My stomach turned again. The oysters?? Amongst the long list of academic and industry appointments was the fact that they were a non-exec of a major water utility company. I do not know the agenda of this person concerning the environment, farming and food, but I do know that the norovirus we consumed when enjoying our oysters was due to the shitty state of our rivers, seas and coastline.?

As we found out from many locals as we bemoaned the poisoning later in our week’s holiday, there’s an issue with UK shellfish, or certainly those from the south-west.? Over-crowded holiday homes during the summer, combined with rising sea temperatures and a decrepit, under-invested water and waste system leads to a dangerous home for our sea harvest.

Having heard from a farmer invested in her environment and an entrepreneur bothered to write a 500-page National Food Strategy, addressing (the lack of) education and safeguarding food security for all, I did daydream how the post-ceremony banter was on stage as a certain person explained away my poisoning, the state of our waters and the size of utility company directors’ bonuses.? If only Fergal Sharkey had received a gong too.