The Udder Side of Life

Ramsay Short samples a UK camping holiday with a difference – a working farm, no tent pegs and a flushing toilet! Photography by Alexander Short

Four days on a farm in a tent. Not quite what I call fun, unless you like animals… and tents. But camping at Pond Farm in Suffolk is where I’ve found myself and, surprisingly for this urbanite, I’m actually having a good time.

No laptop, no BlackBerry, no TV and no radio. Long days lazing, feeding the horses or mucking out the pigs, night skies full of stars that city living just can’t compete with, fried eggs and sausages cooked on a wood-burning stove, and the relaxed company of my partner, a friend and our lively two-year-old who is having the time of her young life.

It may be because I have not had to hammer in one tent peg or sleep in a skanky sleeping bag on a bumpy earth floor. It may also be because I have not had to pee in a bucket or shower with a watering can while freezing to death. It may be because I live in the fast-paced city of London with a pressurised job in the new recession era, addicted to email and mobile technology and this is the first moment I’ve had to shut it all off in what feels like forever.

Pond Farm is a Feather Down Farm, one of 22 dotted across the UK that since 2006 have been proving a hit with obsessed city dwellers and families throughout the country. The reason is simple – it’s getting back to nature without the crap stuff. Many may call this cheating – “In my day, staying in a tent wasn’t about creature comforts”, Grandad might say, and there’s something to that. But judging by the success of the Feather Down Farms concept, visitors don’t care. The brainchild of Dutch holiday entrepreneur Luite Moraal (the man who brought Center Parcs to the UK), Feather Down Farms had a proven track record in the Netherlands before coming to Britain, and now has five sites in France. Pond Farm joined up last year and has been going strong ever since.

Husband and wife owners Sophie and Steven are exactly as you’d imagine farmers to be – they both take care of the animals and among other jobs, Sophie makes jams and Steven works the fields with his tractor. They meet us on arrival Friday afternoon, and after we park up (happily, the last we see of the car for the weekend) we chuck our bags into a wheelbarrow and push it towards a line of large, tent-like structures.

Wary at first, I let our toddler lead the way – though it takes a while, as she’s distracted first by the newborn kittens, then by the pigs and cows and finally the horses, before we make it to our temporary home in a far corner of the farm.

One of a line of five so-called tents spaced far enough apart for guests not to unduly bother each other, ours is a cross between an African safari hut and a gold prospector’s log cabin.

On one side of our new home is the horse paddock (the smell of dung breezes over to my nostrils), while on the other, beyond a fence and some trees, is a huge field of yellow straw. The warm feel of late spring is everywhere.

But it’s the “tent” that truly makes this trip. This big wood-and-canvas home is dominated in the front room by a kitchen unit filled with enough pots, pans, enamel camping mugs, plates and cutlery for a banquet. It holds an aluminium sink with cold running water that’s also drinkable, and iron hooks are suspended above the unit for the traditional oil lamps provided for when night falls.

There’s a large, six-person wooden table to one side with a candelabra suspended over it, while on the other side lies a large wooden ice box. We fill this with cold water bottles from Sophie’s fridge to keep our provisions cool. In the centre of the room there’s an old-school wood-burning stove with a chimney going up through the roof, which we can cook on and use to boil water in a huge kettle. It also keeps us warm. Though the tent comes with a stock of pre-chopped wood, by Sunday I have gone off to chop extra in a shed next to the pigsty, the most physical I get all weekend.

The sleeping quarters are as impressive. There are two rooms divided again by wood and more canvas. One has two bunk beds, while the other has a large double bed. Both are laden with comfy mattresses, pillows and warm duvets, which is definitely what camping should be about. Even better, there’s a secret canopy bed hidden behind shutters in what feels like a cupboard – perfect for kids. Finally, this is a tent with a flushing toilet that you can actually sit on, although the showers are in a separate block back near the main farmhouse.

It’s the sort of camping that’s perfect for the likes of urban couples with young children and a bit of an eco-friendly conscience. You could even call it posh camping, but for us it was about getting back to nature just with a few frills. It’s not all easy. It takes a while to get the stove burning and it definitely eats up a lot of wood, but the morning pleasure of frying freshly laid eggs we’ve gone to collect from the chicken coop – the clucking drives my daughter wild with smiles – alongside drinking fresh coffee we’ve ground down from beans in the antique coffee grinder, is worth all the fuss.

Sophie also runs a 24-hour honesty shop over by the stables, something that all the Feather Down Farms have. You can get Pond Farm’s eggs, jams, sausages, homemade cakes, pies and basics like milk, as well as other local Suffolk produce, which for the most part is organic. There’s even some wine, and I happily grab a couple of bottles for evenings.

At dusk each night, as the stars come out, we sit at the front of the tent, feeling the warmth from the stove behind us and looking out at the charming sight of a field stretching to the horizon. The lamps and candles are aflame and the March air is full with suggestion for the next day. Have I become a hobbit, I wonder? There’s smoke coming from the other tents, and we can hear the low noises of children playing and friendly banter. It really is an idyll. I’m so relaxed I don’t even feel like reading and we all sleep early. Though the stove goes out during the night the duvets keep us warm and even the sound of the horses running around can’t keep me awake. I’ve completely forgotten about my BlackBerry.

On the Sunday before we leave, all the guests prepare homemade pizzas with Sophie and her children, and Steven stokes up a stone wood-fired oven. The results are delicious and I wonder how I ever let the pressures of urban living get to me.

For more details, visit www.featherdownfarms.co.uk. All farms open for business from 3 April. Prices vary depending on length of stay and peak holiday times, but range from a minimum of £195 (€220) per tent (sleeps six) for an off-peak, mid-week short stay, to a Maximum of £795 (€898) for a week-long stay during the height of summer.