Tag Archives: farmer

Winter magic at Warborne

I know, I know, dear Reader.  It has been an age since my last post.  I promise it’s not because I’ve forgotten you, it’s just that we’ve hardly had a chance to draw breath since renovations started.  It has been so full-on over the last few months and it has felt at times as if it would never end and we’d wind up living without heating or running water and cooking on a camping stove forever.  There’ll be time for stories of derelict farmhouse chic soon enough but before the chaos of Christmas descends upon us, there was just a little time for some much needed recharging of batteries.

After a long and winding renovation road which isn’t over yet, the four of us needed to escape the farmhouse a couple of weeks ago.  I can’t lie, dear Reader, the building work has taken its toll on me and managing a building site, working full time and keeping two small people (as well as Jerry) on the straight and narrow has left me utterly exhausted.  Jerry and I knew it was going to be hard but the constant day-to-day dramas and trying to keep it all from falling apart (literally rather than metaphorically on some days) was far harder than we ever imagined.  Still, we both know that the little farmhouse is worth it, no matter how many times we think we’re recreating scenes from the 80s classic film, The Money Pit.

So when Fanny from Warborne Farm suggested a visit to her beautiful family run farm in the New Forest, it was too good an offer to refuse.  A weekend away from our own farmhouse was just what the doctor ordered and my goodness, Warborne Farm really didn’t disappoint.

Warborne Farm is a family-run 100 acre farm which boasts a selection of lovingly converted boutique barns, perfect for families, couples and those who need nothing but cosiness, long walks and a chance to while away the hours just pottering in the New Forest.

Arriving to a roaring fire in the woodburner, the Grain Loft became our home from home for the weekend.  It was time to sit back and enjoy the peace without the constant whirring and banging of builders.

We have stayed in some truly beautiful places but I have to say that the attention to detail when it comes to decor is second to none at Warborne.  This is farmhouse styling on a totally different level.  It is functional but beautiful, cosy and rustic yet chic.  I applaud all the little things which make a stay at Warborne Farm so special – sheep fleeces on the beds from the farm’s own flock, a light fitting made from the original pulley system used for hauling up hessian sacks of grain for storing, shutters handmade by Kate’s mum Ann, bedside tables carved from blocks of Douglas Fir from the New Forest and sills once part of an old sunken barge found emerging from the mudflats.  Modern, rustic and so homely.

However, I’m not sure the girls and I will ever get over being able to watch our ‘neighbours’ as darkness embraced the world outside and the fire’s glow lit the scene below.

With a viewing window in the sitting room floor, we were able to marvel at the farm’s Boer goats and their kids sleeping in the shed beneath us.  A little slice of farm magic.

After stories and hot chocolates, much chat about how goats go to sleep and whether we could adopt some for our smallholding, the girls reluctantly left ‘goat watch’ for bed.  What a bedroom it was too, dear Reader!  Stalls converted into a stunning 4 bed dorm with beds of hay mattresses made from ox-eye daisies, ladies bedstraw and other wild flowers from the farm meadows.

Bringing a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘hitting the hay’, Poppy and Primrose couldn’t wait to hunker down for the night.  Strictly on the basis that they could wake at the crack of dawn the next morning to feed the goats of course…..

With a long soak in the bath, a glass of wine or two and a squashy bed to sink into, I went to bed dreaming of Heidi and her grandfather’s chalet in the Alps.  On waking from the best night’s sleep I’ve had in ages, it felt like I was still there to be honest, dear Reader.

Getting to know the farm’s residents was firmly on the agenda when the girls surfaced for breakfast.  Alongside the goats in the shed below our sitting room, we discovered there were chicks cheeping away too.  A short wander from our barn led us to the orchard where friendly and rather dashing Swiss Valais sheep greeted us, portly Kune Kune pigs squeaked and grunted with delight at having visitors to scratch their bellies and armed with a basket, the girls collected eggs from the farm’s hens.  One of the most marvellous parts of a stay at Warborne is the chance to experience farmhouse life of your very own.  This is the sort of weekend that allows you to forget the outside world exists – simply switch off and free range.  Poppy and Primrose bounced on and off haybales in the barn to their hearts’ content.
We couldn’t get over the marvellous selection of vegetables in the farm’s burgeoning polytunnels, just waiting for guests to help themselves.  That’s not all, Warborne Farm has good eco credentials too.  The farm’s heating and hot water needs are run on renewable energy sources and the family take pride in the fact that the farm has been run along organic principles for the last three generations, ‘sustainably exploiting the natural resources’ available to them as they put it.  This is not only a luxury barn stay but one with a genuine conscience.

We stayed in the Grain Loft which sleeps 8 but there are plenty of other gorgeous converted barns to stay in at Warborne – all unique, all very private and luxurious.  I took a sneak peak at the enormous copper bath in the Hay Loft next door to us.  Thought I’d died and gone to heaven.  Jerry found it very hard to prise me away from its shiny exterior – I think that the words ‘gin o’clock’ may have been applied as antidote, dear Reader.

Of course should you wish for a fix of the outside world, Lymington isn’t far from the farm’s doorstep.  Perfect for stocking up on supplies, taking a stroll on the sea wall or finding somewhere cosy to stop for a bite to eat or a swift half.  However, there’s so much of farm life to enjoy at Warborne, you’ll find it hard to tear yourself away.

To be honest, it was almost too good to share with you, dear Reader – I’m already planning a return to Warborne for a little more digital detox to ward off the January blues and get some more words scribbled.  It’s the perfect place for a retreat.  The girls are still asking Jerry and I when we can get some goats and cut a hole in their bedroom floors to accommodate viewing windows and I wasn’t at all sure that I wanted to come back to our own little farmhouse after such a wonderful weekend of slow living.

However return we did, with bucketfuls of ideas for our own project.  Hay mattresses, shutter designs, polytunnels…….oh and geese.  They are definitely on the list for our field in the spring, dear Reader.

Sshhh…….don’t tell anyone but should you wish to book a January escape to Warborne Farm, there’s currently 25% off on all January bookings.  Well worth it I’d say dear Reader.  Do follow @warbornefarm on Instagram for more details.

 

And then there were three more….

Flowers for church on Easter Day

Flowers for church on Easter Day

Easter has departed for another year, leaving behind the most obscene amount of chocolate that I have ever seen.  Spoilt rotten by so many, Primrose and Poppy seem to have a chocolate Everest stashed in the cupboard.  CUE the serious choc-induced madness at church on Easter Day, resulting in Poppy screaming most of the way through the first few hymns and then half of the sermon.  With disapproving glances from some villagers, I made a point of praying for a large gin and tonic when the vicar asked us to call to mind any matters private and personal that could be offered up during the prayers.  Perhaps I should remember to put a hip flask in my handbag for such occasions…?

Still spring in the village is a fantastic sight to behold and everywhere we look there are signs of rejuvenation all around.  Wild garlic in the hedgerows, the crazy cawing of rooks and their babies can be overheard in the trees all around us and we even spied some baby deer from afar up near the woods.  With so many baby animals about, several trips have been made to the local lambing sheds to see the sheep equivalent of a maternity unit.  Truly marvellous to behold. Continue reading

Always have biscuits

Oooh COMBINE!

Oooh COMBINE!

Well, dear Reader, I do apologise for my tardiness in posting but things have been blissful chaos here of late!  Last week was the first week of Jerry’s daily commute back to the Big Smoke and the first week for the girls and I to brave it in the sticks alone.  Quite surprisingly, the house, children, puppy and pussycats were all intact at the end of the week.  I, however, needed a rather large gin!  Trying to get things done in the house has been nigh on impossible, not least because the girls and I have been very distracted by all the sights and sounds around our new digs.  Primrose, Poppy and I watched with glee as the combines rattled up the farm track and the fields of rapeseed disappeared.  The farmer (a stereotypically grumpy farmer as described by his wife!) must have been rather bemused watching us staring at him at the edge of his field as he carried on with his harvest routine.  An incredible thing for two small girls who are used to the hustle and bustle of city living.  I still haven’t tired of hearing Poppy whoop with delight and yell “Tractor” from her bird’s eye view of the countryside in the backpack, every time we greet farmland at the top of the bridleway!  Pure magic.

Our secret passageway towards glorious fields of wheat.

Our secret passageway towards glorious fields of wheat.

I know you are dying to hear all about the village, dear Reader and believe me, it really hasn’t disappointed.  I feel like I have walked into a scene from a Jilly Cooper novel most days.  Gifts of vegetables continue to flood in from the villagers, offers on cut price game birds and invitations to tea, lunch and drinks parties.  I feel more sociable here than I ever did in London.  Still waiting to spot Rupert Campbell Black on a sizeable stallion though….!

The slow gin looked very impressive...shame no tastings on offer.

The sloe gin looked very impressive…shame no tastings on offer.

The local village flower show proved a delight. The entries were suitably charming and the comments were hilarious……clearly a leaf taken from Paul Hollywood’s (Great British Bake Off) textbook of harsh judging.  A seriously competitive business and some impressively polished silverware for the mantelpiece at stake.  I hear, over the garden gate, that one year, pots of jam were marked down for lacking a doily.  I stuffed a rules and regulations handbook into my ridiculously townie-sized tote to give myself necessary ammunition for next year’s show.  I am determined to prove that Margot can give the bumpkins a run for their money in the jam stakes.

Monty pup has settled in well but has caused quite a stir with local dogs, landowners and has only just narrowly missed a run in with the gamekeeper.  Turns out that he is rather interested in the fat little partridge who taunt him at every turn on our walks.  Back to training for us and walks on a long lead for the foreseeable future.  God help us when the gamekeeper releases the pheasants….  In the meantime, Monty is happily decimating local wildlife on the doorstep and devoured a live toad last week.  WHOLE.  I leapt in to intervene but it was too late as I watched it still wriggling as it went down.  Deeply distressing but all part of nature as Jerry said when he returned from London to a wailing woman in the kitchen, worrying about karma and whether or not it might have been a prince in disguise.

As if butter wouldn't melt....

As if butter wouldn’t melt….

The house is starting to take shape now and finally we unpacked a few boxes of books and it felt more like home.  Dear Anthony Powell was quite right when he said “Books do furnish a room”.   Jerry and I really can’t wait to light our first fire and spend our evenings curled up in its warm glow.  Our life in the countryside so far seems to suit us well.

Most importantly, I have learned a few lessons in our first couple of weeks here:

1) Monty is not to be trusted off the lead here, no matter how much he gives me his best soppy spaniel face.  Farmers, gamekeepers and villagers with large fields and horses do not appreciate a cheeky spaniel.

2) Expect flurries of expectant villagers all dying for a look round the house and….

3) Most importantly, always have biscuits!  Seriously.  With a hamlet full of folk bearing welcome gifts, biscuits and cups of tea are a necessity here.

Good Lord, I really wish I had taken some baking lessons.  I seem to be constantly rushing to the next door village and will be soon know as the shortbread queen by the owners of the shop at this rate!