Not Sunday Runday at Manor Farm

Sunday mornings usually involve me sitting in my dressing gown far longer than I should, writing, editing, or staring into space thinking of what to write while Commando is off on a Sunday Runday. Occasionally, they involve early morning trips to watch and photograph lunatic runners, usually in the cold. having squelched through acres of mud. On those Sunday mornings, I may sometimes be more than a little grumpy due to frozen hands and lack of sleep. The last Sunday in October 2021 was different. I was not wearing my dressing gown, and I was far from home. There were runners with me, but they weren’t running.

The Hamwic Harriers were involved in arranging a cross country run, part of the CC6 series. It was a race none of them would run. Instead they would be marshalling. The actual race was in mid November, but on this particular Sunday the ‘would be marshals’ were walking the four mile course and deciding where the marshal spots needed to be. The course was at Manor Farm Country Park, so I was keen to go along and check it out. It’s a place I’ve walked to more than once, and it’s rather beautiful, although not all my memories of it are good, and I’d never actually been into the farm.

The walk began with a lot of talking, but before too long, we were standing outside the gates to the farm. While an interminable discussion went on about exactly where a marshal was needed, I stopped to peer through the window of the old blacksmith’s shop. It’s just the kind of dilapidated place I love and it always seems a pity not to be able to go inside and explore, but, as usual, it was shut. Still, it was the farm I really wanted to see and while I’d been taking photos, they’d opened the gate.

The farm is a strange time capsule of a place. The barns and buildings date back to the sixteenth century, and it is run as a working farm, but not a modern one. Time here has halted somewhere in the early twentieth century. There’s even a farmhouse and cottage filled with period furniture, including blackout curtains and an Anderson shelter. Sadly, we would be mostly marching through so there was no time to see that, helpful as it would have been to my research.

Luckily, there was still a lot of talking about marshalling spots going on, so Kim, Nicole, Kate and I wandered off to look at the animals. To be honest, I was wondering what they were going to make of a few hundred runners thundering past in November, but the people who run the farm seemed to think it would be fine, and the animals must be used to humans gawping at them given the steady stream of visitors who pass through. Maybe the runners would be a welcome change for them.

First there were alpacas, who seemed almost as interested in us as we were in them. Whether there would have really been alpacas here in the early twentieth century, or not, I couldn’t say, but I wouldn’t have minded getting hold of some of their wool. Alpaca wool is so soft and nice to knit with, I wouldn’t mind an alpaca of my own. I’m not sure my little garden would cope very well with one, though.

Next to the alpacas, there were cows. To be honest, I’m not a great fan of cows. I’ve had a few hairy experiences with them on my walks and I find them a little sinister. Luckily, these particular cows didn’t seem very interested in us. After checking there were no loose cows, we risked going into the barn. Kim had a little sit down amongst the pumpkins, it was Halloween after all. Then we spotted a calf, although he wasn’t very impressed with us and went off to find his mother.

There were a couple of gypsy style caravans I’d have liked a closer look at, especially as the story I was writing at the time involved one. Sadly, the group decided to move off before I had the chance, but I did manage to snap a quick photograph to examine later.

Before very long the men had stopped again for another chat. It looked as if it was going to be a long one so I wandered off to look at the pig sty and one, very cute piglet. I knew the wonderful chapel I’d visited previously was nearby. There’d be no time to visit, but I thought it would be interesting to get a look at it from a different angle. Sadly, the view was mostly obscured by trees, but I took a photograph anyway, along with another of a few interesting looking outbuildings I’d not seen before.

It was slightly frustrating not to have the time to really explore, but beggars can’t be choosers and being there at all was a real privilege. While I was looking at the huddle of buildings, trying to work out what they were, I suddenly realised it had got very quiet. The men had stopped talking and carried on walking. They were fast disappearing into the distance. No one had noticed I was missing and I had to actually run to catch up. It was the only running that happened all day, and I can’t believe I was the one doing it.

I whizzed past another barn filled with horses and goats and finally caught up with them at the beginning of a muddy trail beside a very muddy field. Wallowing in the mud were a couple of pigs. While the men carried on talking, Kim, Nicole, Kate and I watched the frolicking pigs. These Hampshire hogs were the embodiment of the phrase ‘as happy as a pig in muck.’ The trail was muddy, but not as muddy as the pig’s field, and the blue sky along with the verge filled with flowers gave it a jaunty, spring like feel, even if it was now autumn.

The last animals we saw before we left the farm were a couple of sheep with some young lambs. How clean and calm they looked after those mucky pigs. We might have been leaving the farm behind, but the walk was far from over. We’d set off almost an hour earlier and hardly seemed to have covered any distance because of all the stopping to chat. The rate we were going it would be nightfall before we managed to cover the whole four miles . . .

If you’d like to visit Manor Farm yourself, all the details, including opening times can be found here. It isn’t free, unless you’re under three, but it is certainly interesting and a lovely way to spend a day.

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