Where buzzards mew

I have a habit of mocking Lincolnshire's landscape. It's a kind of self mockery, loving and not malicious. I concede there are parts of Lincolnshire that are beautiful to walk through, where skylarks sing, buzzards mew and cows moo. Though, it's still a landscape shaped by agriculture and the leisure industry. There is conflict here between the past and the future, between the haves and have nots, between the landowners and the tourists. This landscape is still an industrialised and social landscape.