It was sad to hear today that Professor Hugh Pennington has said that children under five should not be allowed to touch animals at petting farms.
As someone who had a (semi) rural childhood I was in regular contact with animals, especially while under 5. I sometimes wonder how we survived.
Especially perhaps one particular, but all too rare a treat.
These were the days when mummy said “We’ll go mushrooming in the morning.” Usually in the autumn, around this time of year. We got up early in the misty light of dawn, climbed over the wall into the field & made our way up to the copse at the top – keeping beady eyes open for any tell tale dark green rings in the grass which betrayed the presence of a (not too) fresh cowpat, a promising site for mushrooms, providing nobody had beaten us to it. Even if there were none in the field the edge of the dry stone wall or the fringes of the wood on the other side would usually provide enough to fill our bag.
Then back down the hill to one of the Best Breakfasts In The World, mushrooms fried in bacon fat, perhaps on their own with toast or with a fried egg with a lovely runny yolk to dunk the yummy mushrooms in.
Of course our history has been one long story of a withdrawal from close contact with animals, which has undoubtedly reduced the danger of all kinds of illness & may be a major contributor to the astonishing increase in expectation of life.
On the other hand, perhaps there is something in the ‘too clean’ theory & we pay for this with other ills
