PREMIUM A farmer harvests hay in the Scottish Borders. (Photo by Melanie Stetson Freeman/The Christian Science Monitor via Getty Images). ONE summer when I was a student, I got onto a country train in Wiltshire. It was a slow, rattly journey in the sort of coach you see in war-time films: two rows of frowsy seats facing each other, with no way out between halts except by a wooden door onto the tracks. The scene was like a chapter in The Darling Buds of May – trees in full leaf, sunshine sparkling on streams, fields of grazing cows. Surrounding me were local women heading to the nearest market town. Clutching baskets on their knees, they were dressed in much the same way as their grandmothers and maybe even their great-grandmothers.