obsessed

FIVE minutes into my holiday and the conversation had already turned to poo.  

Animal poo, but poo nonetheless. And lots of it, apparently.  

We had needed a holiday but, with money tight, were forgoing poolside cocktails and fluffy hotel bathrobes for a stay volunteering at Fairfield Community Farm on Ruskington Fen, Lincs.  

I wasn’t sure if my 13-year-old daughter would forgive me for calling this a holiday. 

Kathy, the farm’s founder, was explaining the work to be done before we had even put up our tent.  

“There are goats to groom and pigs waiting for belly scratches,” she said.  

HOLY COW

I stayed at glam farm resort from Made in Chelsea with huge roasts & ‘pig’ pods

CLASS ACT

European train to launch business class style plane seats with £55 tickets

Run entirely by volunteers, the farm uses animals, nature and getting dirty to support wellbeing and is home to more than 30 animals, including goats, sheep, pigs, ponies, chickens, ducks and geese.  

While she may have been less than enthusiastic at the thought of the trip, within hours my daughter was bottle-feeding The Hooligans – a trio of frisky sheep – and discovering that Milkshake, a 250kg Tamworth-cross pig, has no concept of personal space.  

The day passed in a blur of feeding, grooming, feeding, carrying and more feeding. 

Soon, we’d clocked up a full day on the farm without checking the time. 

Nightfall at Fairfield didn’t mean sundowners, either.  

There were ponies to settle into their stables and last jobs to finish before we could finally retreat to our tent. Then, the rain started.  

Sloshing our way into Day Two, we realised that volunteering at Fairfield isn’t all cuddling lambs. If a fence needs fixing, a gate needs painting or a stable needs mucking out – did I mention poo? – you roll up your sleeves and get on with it.  

Then came the task of moving The Hooligans from one end of the farm to the other. Simple, it was not. 

We laughed, skipped and side-kicked our way across the field while the bleating Hooligans went in different directions. 

Herding sheep is definitely an acquired skill, but my daughter and I were starting to feel like right Farmer Joes. 

And between the animals, endless cups of tea, a visit from the farrier to tend Quin’s hooves and collecting goose eggs, something else happened. 

We stopped rushing. We forgot about our worries.  

Carol, one of Fairfield’s longest-serving helpers, said her weekly volunteering sessions give her purpose, connection and something to look forward to, adding: “The farm saved my life.” 

I may have been looking for an affordable British break with a difference. 

But after our stay at Fairfield – between poultry pecks, pony pats and poo (did I mention the poo?) – our break became something I didn’t expect.  

Quality time together. Nowhere else to be. And nothing to rush for. 

But next year, I’m putting in a request for a shower.