How finding fame on a Yorkshire farm destroyed our marriage. In a soul-baring account, Amanda and Clive Owen break silence to tell what really happened…

For four years, Our ­Yorkshire Farm was one of the most popular fly-on-the-wall shows on TV. The ­extraordinary drama and beauty of life at Ravenseat, the remote farm high in the Dales run by the Owens – ­shepherdess Amanda, sheep farmer Clive and their nine children – caught the imagination of millions.

Amanda wrote five books and became a familiar face on rural TV programmes around the UK.

Yet, amid accusations of infidelity, fame seemed to pull the Owens’ 22-year marriage apart and, in 2022, broadcaster Channel 5 announced the end of the long-running show. But what really happened to Clive and Amanda Owen’s rural dream at Ravenseat? Here, in their own words, they reveal the truth about their relationship – and the new TV show they’re filming together, despite living apart…

Our ­Yorkshire Farm, capturing the life at Ravenseat, the remote farm high in the Dales run by the Owens – ­shepherdess Amanda, sheep farmer Clive and their nine children – caught the imagination of millions

Amanda’s story

I met Clive 28 years ago, when I was 21 and he was 40. Even though I grew up in an urban area, I was passionate about rural life and it was my dream to be a shepherdess. Clive was a hill farmer, so – unlikely as it sounds — it was sheep that brought us together.

We were married in 2000 and found ourselves on a hill end at the top of Swaledale, Yorkshire, battling the elements and just about getting by. The farm at Ravenseat doesn’t belong to us; we are tenant farmers making a living from our sheep and cattle.

As our family grew to a sizeable brood of nine – Raven, Reuben, Miles, Edith, Violet, Sidney, Annas, Clementine and Nancy – it became clear that to create security and ­stability for them, we needed to diversify.

Long before the television programmes and the books, I was looking for different ways we could earn money.

Walkers would pass through the farm on the Coast to Coast trail, so I set up a little sideline selling afternoon teas, and it was one of those passers-by who first floated the idea of showcasing our lives on the farm on ­television. It was 2011 when the farm was first featured on ITV’s The Dales.

Gradually one opportunity led to another and soon I was writing books and giving talks about life on the farm. Then, in 2018, we had our own farming show on Channel 5 – Our Yorkshire Farm. In hindsight, maybe I should have limited how many events and appearances I took on, but I was on a ­mission, determined not to let any opportunities pass me by. I was very focused on ­putting down roots for the family – on finally owning our own home.

At speaking events, I began every talk by stating that if it wasn’t for Clive taking care of the children, I wouldn’t be able to be there. I told people that to us ‘it didn’t ­matter who sheared the sheep’ and that ‘it was irrelevant who changed the nappies’.

But truthfully, it did matter to Clive.

Maybe the generation gap had a part to play, but it was hard for him to accept that talking about farming could pay more than actually doing it. The more events I did, the more it annoyed him.

Clive never liked me being away from the farm, and that led to ­arguments. I would return home not knowing what to expect or what his reaction would be. I’d feel the tension in the air and await the explosion.

The more Clive shut me out or put me down, the more I tried to overcompensate. Instead of staying over at an event that was a five-hour drive from the farm, I would drive back, doing the family shop en route at 1am in a 24-hour Tesco, so I could show him I was committed to ­providing on all levels.

The Owens on their farm. From left: Miles, Clive, Edith, Annas, Nancy, Raven, Sidney, Reuben, Violet, Clemmy and Amanda

I was trying to be everything to everyone, and it was exhausting.

To get away from the atmosphere, I would go to our nearby holiday let – the house we had finally been able to buy to secure the children’s future. During Covid we had no bookings and the quiet gave me a chance to write and gather my thoughts. I soon realised I was so much calmer spending time apart from Clive – we both were – and so I began to spend more and more time there.

That’s when we both agreed we were better apart than together with the children spending time in either home as they wished.

I never set out looking for another relationship. Rob [Davies] was a friend that Clive and I had both known for a long time. He put together the farm website and the digital aspect of the business, everything that we couldn’t do.

What he offered was conversation rather than confrontation, and Clive knew about it from the very ­beginning – he actually suggested Rob and I would be a good match.

At that point, a few years ago now, Clive was also seeing someone else and was openly dating. It wasn’t a secret, everyone roundabout knew, even the children.

But the impact of my and Rob’s relationship was far-reaching for everyone involved. Rob and I were both shattered by the way the media pursued us and reported it, and as a result Rob and I are no longer together or in touch.

I haven’t spoken about this before because it was clear from the outset that the media had taken sides and, in speaking out, I would just be ­adding more fuel to the fire.

I wanted to protect the children from any more hurtful headlines, so I had to bite my tongue and let the waters calm. I’m certainly not ­interested in selling my story.

There has been a lot of ­misinformation spread about us, and I feel it’s time to set things straight. For a start, Our Yorkshire Farm wasn’t axed by C5. We could have ­continued if we’d wanted to, but we knew that our personal ­situation was changing.

When our marriage broke down, reporters would come right up to the windows of the farmhouse, peering in, knocking on doors. Taking photos and leaving Post-it notes stuck to the door. Our remote hill farm should, in theory, have been the perfect place to hide away and let the dust settle, but for a while we were under siege.

I am aware that it is impossible to have it both ways. That you can’t do a fly-on-the-wall TV series and write books about your life and then ­complain about media intrusion.

But there are limits and eventually the scrutiny takes its toll. Particularly when stories are one-sided or incorrect and result in vicious, relentless trolling. Criticism is part and parcel of life and unavoidable, but if anything we need more ­kindness in this world.

The way I tried to cope was by shutting everyone out and trying to clear my mind, but in doing so, I gave myself too much space to think. Often my anxiety would get the better of me. From having a cheery, positive outlook, I felt ­paranoid and detached. The children wanted to make me feel better, but I was exhausted and had little appetite for life at all.

It’s with the horses that I’ve been most able to find peace. Time spent riding and caring for them has been invaluable and a form of therapy.

I can’t believe I’m actually going to say this, but after everything we’ve been through, Clive is the person that I talk to now.

He’s my confidant and he will now listen to my worries and I his.

Our approach is to tackle serious subjects with a hefty dose of humour. We are separated, but wholly united in our aims for the future of the farm and the family. Now that we have teenagers tearing around, it’s a joint effort to keep any kind of order.

Clive is a good father to the ­children, and he works extremely hard. We have definitely become better at showing appreciation for the work we each do. So much so, that we’re now back working together on a brand new TV series which follows our journey restoring a derelict farmhouse we’ve bought and exploring its history.

We are not a couple any more, but we will always be family, and this project would be impossible if it wasn’t a group family effort.

There’s no confusion on our part regarding our amicable split.

This kind of relationship – where parents work together and ‘get on’ but are separated – is not so ­

unusual nowadays. So we’re proud to share our new reality (in every sense of the word) on our next ­family TV adventure.

Clive’s story

When Amanda was first asked to be on TV, we were both excited.

We agreed together that it would be a good way to help support the farm financially and share the ­realities of farming.

What I didn’t count on was how popular the show would get, how much media interest there would be – and how much of Amanda’s time would be taken up with promoting the shows, giving talks, book ­signings and the like.

Amanda and I had done everything on the farm together, struggled hard through thick and thin for 20 years and then, all of a sudden, it felt like that’s not how it worked any more. I felt I’d been left behind.

And I wasn’t willing to listen to Amanda when she told me the ­reason she was doing it was to ensure we had a safety net beyond the farm, a secure future for the children.

If I’m honest about it, I didn’t want to accept that I was no longer the breadwinner for our family. It was especially hard knowing that Amanda, who is a very beautiful woman, would be going out all dressed up to launches and events and meeting other people.

I wanted to keep her to myself and for her not to leave the farm. That’s really when the relationship started to go bad, I suppose – about five years ago.

I’m sure the age difference was a factor, and my insecurity about getting older meant I found fault in everything she did.

I resented her success, ­including the fact she got paid more for talking about sheep than I ever could farming sheep. I was jealous, and I was difficult to deal with. It’s not easy to talk about and I’m not proud of my behaviour back then. I was awful to Amanda and, looking back, I think that my own depression had a part to play.

I was angry and drinking a lot of whisky. It was my way to cope, but it led to arguments, and as my behaviour got worse, it was too much for Amanda to bear.

Anger and resentment ate away at me. I know she dreaded ­coming home because she knew what was coming and that I would start a fight.

We never managed to say how we were feeling, everything would escalate and blow up. There was a lot of shouting. I can see now that I was being hypocritical by thinking Amanda had left me behind with the success she had outside of the farm, because in some respects, I had always put the farm before her, so she was coming second to that.

It got to the point where she couldn’t stand the fighting, the drinking and all my negative comments, so she went across the road to our holiday let to get some space.

It’s not like everyone else’s ­version of leaving a marriage, because she was at the farm the next day and every day ­thereafter, looking after the kids, feeding us all, doing jobs on the farm – and she still is!

We were mindful that we didn’t want to argue around the ­children, but of course they were aware that we weren’t getting on.

We had to find a way to make it doable for them. And that’s when we started to accept that being apart might be easier.

The two houses are walking ­distance, so the kids, now aged from eight to 23, go where they want to go. They do as they please, there’s no tension or ­animosity about the set-up.

It’s really good for them. Amanda is the greatest mother ever and the kids love her to bits.

I’d like people to know that what caused the split between us wasn’t anyone else – it was the constant fighting. My anger drove Amanda away.

Looking back on it I can see now that Amanda needed ­someone to talk to, someone she could trust, and at that stage I wasn’t that person.

Rob had always been a good friend to us, and we’d known him a long time. They got together at a point when we had already ­separated so I wasn’t shocked or horrified, and it was never an affair in my mind because I knew about it from the beginning.

I was seeing other people, too, and no one came after me with their cameras and their ­negative stories saying I was a home wrecker.

So it’s not right to blame Amanda, as no one could have tried harder than she did to keep our relationship going.

We take equal responsibility for the farm and the family and equal responsibility for separating – it was a joint decision.

I’m not seeing anybody now and neither is Amanda. We still work together and look after the kids, so we’ll always be in each other’s lives. Amanda and I get on really well now. We’ve been restoring an old farmhouse together, which has been great for us as a family.

Most of what the media has written about our relationship is nonsense because they’ve not spoken to us about it until now.

The impact that the ­finger-pointing and false stories from the media has had on Amanda can’t be exaggerated.

I’m not overstating it when I say that the intensity of the ­scrutiny she has been subjected to nearly killed her.

When she was at her lowest point there were nights where, after cooking supper for all of us, she went home and I didn’t know if I would see her in the morning.

The stress made her so ill, she stopped eating. She’s been ­physically and mentally ill and that’s because of the negativity in the media and the trolls. It’s been terrible to witness.

Seeing Amanda so near the edge changed my focus. Now all I want is to look after her and help her to get better.

For every person that’s been horrid to her, there are a ­thousand that love her. Letters come to the farm every day, really moving letters from people who say how she’s inspired them. She inspires me, too.

It’s been tough going through all of this in the public eye, and who knows what the next ­chapter will hold. But that’s the beauty of life.

We are survivors and, as Amanda said to me the other day, ‘we’ll live to tell the tale’.