Photo Talk Thursday: 16th-Century Home Farm Memories

After Tuesday’s trip down memory lane—thinking about the dining room, those cheese selections, and my mum—I ended up diving deep into the digital archives. Today’s photos are pulled from an album simply called “Home Farm.” Reflecting on these Home Farm memories, I realise how much they shape my perspective today.

If I could go back and live there again, I would do it in a heartbeat. A lot of my dreams are still spent there, usually riding around on the single-track roads before you hit the B-road into town. It was a completely unique upbringing, and looking back, a time of absolute innocence. These are the kinds of Home Farm memories that stay with you for life.

The 16th-Century House and The Great Roof Chaos of ’97

The farm was built in the 16th century, though we suspect it could be even older. Up until 1997, it still had a tar roof. I vividly remember the absolute mess of getting it replaced with slate. I actually helped out by punching the holes in the slate tiles so the roofers could get the job done faster.

For a couple of weeks during the chaos, we all essentially lived in the dining room and the downstairs gun room. I was also on crawling duty, dragging cables under the floors to finally put the electrics in.

Decantae Mineral Water and The Sausage Roll Commute

The farm sat on around 70 acres of land and housed a water production factory that pulled fresh water straight from the hills. You might have heard of it: Decantae Mineral Water. My mum and dad ran the place from 1990 until 2014.

During the school holidays, my brother and I would pack bottles of water just to earn some money to live on. It was hard, painfully repetitive work. My only reprieve was break time. I could walk less than a minute from the factory floor back to the house, sit in front of the TV, and grab a snack. My snack of choice? A microwave-heated sausage roll so I could peel the pastry off. Yes, I am odd.

Quad Bikes, Zero Light Pollution, and 4 AM Walks

The land was beautifully spread out. We had a quad bike to get out and about across the fields and up into the hills. I used to spend hours just sitting at the highest point. You could see for miles, and the only sound was a passing sheep or cow. No traffic, no smog, and certainly no close neighbours. There is something special about these Home Farm memories that brings the past vividly to life.

My mum used to pick my friends up so they could stay over for 24-hour gaming sessions, messing about on the quad bike, or taking the factory forklift trucks for a spin. I actually found some old photos of my bedroom from back then—books, figures, photos. Come to think of it, nothing has really changed.

The hills and the valley were incredible at night. Because there was zero light pollution, it was pitch black. If I couldn’t sleep, I would regularly go for walks up the hills at 4 AM.

Freezing Farm Winters and the Magic of a Thermostat

Winter on the farm was always enjoyable—until the power went out. Which happened a lot.

It was always freezing in winter. We had an old Rayburn stove that we constantly fed with wood and coal just to keep the house semi-warm. Long after I moved out, my parents finally got a new heating oil system installed, though I still thought it was freezing. I will never forget moving into my first house in the “real world” and discovering a thermostat. I was absolutely blown away.

That “real world” move was a shock in other ways, too. On the farm, keys to the cars were just left in the ignition. The factory, the office, and the house were never locked up. It took some serious adjustment after moving out to realise that thieves actually existed.

Family Quirks and The End of an Era

We had animals, a vegetable plot, and plenty of character. At one point, my brother even converted an old stone shed into a grow room for a few years. I will leave what he was growing to your imagination. My mum, being Dutch, was quite liberal with things like that and knew exactly what was going on. My dad, being Scottish and prone to shouting a lot, did not. If he had known, he would have burned the shed down.

Decantae was eventually bought out after we left. My mum and dad moved to another house near the sea. In 2014, my mum retired, and just three or four weeks later, she tragically passed away from lung cancer. My dad managed four years without her, but he lost the will to live and passed in 2018.

It was the end of a very specific era, but I will always have these Home Farm memories. Indeed, Home Farm memories will forever remain precious and close to my heart.

QOTD

Daily writing prompt
Which food, when you eat it, instantly transports you to childhood?

Warm granola. So granola with milk and then microwaved for one minute, leave it to stand for another minute, and there you have it. My mum used to make this for me in the morning sometime before we went to high school. It has instant memories of sitting here in the gun room at the farm watch Hey Arnold! till she started to work at 8am. I would get a driver to take me and dickhead to school at 8.15am to get there for 9an.

I’ve not had that cereal for a very long time.

Fishing

One of my biggest hobbies, when I get the chance, is fishing. Someone thing nice about sitting by a lake or river waiting for that next tight line and seeing what you’ve hooked. I wanted to talk about it because I think it’s important for me to remember that I like doing things. Like I am allowed to have something that I enjoy and as an escape from the day-to-day.

It all started back when I was 6-7 with Opa over in Holland fishing one of the rivers/canals in his back garden. A bamboo cane, with a line, barbless hook, and some wet bread. It worked wonders on catching them. I always release my catches and always use barbless hooks. Not only does it stop the jaw of the fish from being ripped out but makes for a challenge as they could slip off the hook. The wet bread bait is genius as you don’t need to drive around looking for maggots or casters. He showed me the basics and whenever I went over, I would take my bamboo rod and fish with him or my Uncle Henk.

I used to heavily fish in the lakes near the farm. £3 permit for the day with a take-home two and release the rest. On these lakes, it was strictly rainbow trout. So sometimes I would take one back to sell to one of the workers on the farm for £3 to pay the fishing fee for the day. Some days I would catch loads, others not so much. It was always very quiet, it being in a remote location. The weather would often be awful and buckets of rain would fall. I still loved it. I invested my wages from the farm on a rod and reel. Training myself from books and practicing knots.

One time Opa came over from Holland to spend time with us. We went down to the lakes where I fish and spent a few hours. He insisted I use the bamboo rod. Just as we were leaving I said “Just one last go” and no sooner did I put the line in, than a rainbow trout got the bait and I landed him. It was an amazing end to the day. Opa took it home, filleted it and we had it for dinner.

The dinner was horrible but still was amazing to see a man prepare food that fresh, deboned, and everything else you do with a fish.

Even through university, I would fish with a few of my housemates. I had a telescopic rod so it would save space in my room. Whenever we could we would go down to the river, which isn’t far from where I live now. Always catching small different kinds of fish but it was more practice for when we went to the lakes near here, those lakes, amazing places. I caught my first carp there.

Nowadays I play online. I did a previous post about the game Russian Fishing, which albeit it isn’t quite the same but is advanced enough for me to enjoy it. So every few days I’ll get some time in. Whenever we go camping we tend to choose somewhere with a small lake or river nearby and I’ll teach B, R, and S the ropes. D even gets involved!