As I mentioned in a previous post one of the very good things that came about when I lived in Northleigh was I became friendly with the local farming community. I have many tales to tell of my interaction with many of them but I will begin by recalling some of my experience with a wonderful man called David Hurford. David was the original owner of most of the area of The Northleigh Valley where we lived although in recent years he had passed on the ownership and management of the land to his sons.
I first met David in the local church at a Sunday service. We took to going to church because a lot of the rest of the village did and it was in, an old fashioned sort of way, how the village came together. There was a sub plot however that in fact ran counter to the last statement. There were a series of Lords and Ladies who lived in the area and they, as a group, would always be in church, sitting together and looking serious. The ‘peasants’ would always avoid sitting in the rows obviously designated as ‘special’ but after the service the ‘have nots’ would ‘bow and scrape’ to the ‘haves’. It was a very interesting sideshow to behold.
Anyway the church verger was David. He lit the candles, ensured the heating was on and would offer the warmest of smiles to new comers. On my third visit to the church, I think it was a Harvest Festival as the church was full, David approached me just as the service was starting and placed the collection bag in my hand. ‘You do the right of the church’ was his order. No choice given I performed my duties with some nervousness.
The initial contact made David and I became firm friends. He was perhaps 10 of 15 years older than me. He had sold his original farm to the Donkey Sanctuary and the proceeds had ensured him a life style of relative excellence, in a farming way that is. David had a huge workshop and he demonstrated all sorts of skills to me. Fixing tractors-often mine-creating and mending all sorts of farm implements and repairing anything that was metal wood and most things in between. It was industrial in its approach and scale.
The first time I met him outside of church I was driving down a muddy lane with Liz when herd of cows came into view running away down the lane. David, who had a badly eroded left hip, was giving chase roaring oaths at the feckless beasts. Seeing us he jumped on the running board of our landcover and ordered a chase. He was brandishing the biggest adjustable spanner I have ever seen and his oaths were surprisingly contemporary. Animal lovers would have winced at the direct approach of his herding techniques but soon the cows were heading back home. David beamed at me and offered thanks. The following night without invitation and without a knock he entered our kitchen and sat down. I offered him drink and he chose a whisky. For the next two hours and several more drinks he recalled us with stories of his life. The winter when the valley was snowed in, The horse that ran off without its rider and the man in the local pub-when it was a pub. The stories were delightful but over time we realised the list of them was relatively short. He would visit us from time to time, always no notice and always the same stories. If I said something like oh David nice to see you but we are about to eat he would take no notice at all. He would sit there until he was ready to go.
Anyway enough back ground the best thing about David was his sense of humour indeed I came to realise that East Devon farmers have a developed sense of humour that is honestly quite incredible.
I had, as I mentioned, a red Massey Ferguson 135 that I bought without any guidance. It had been refurbished repainted but I was soon to realise, not very well. David would willingly help me to replace hoses and things but he would also mock the vehicle and generally take the micky out of me for owning it.
Without any warning one Christmas day I was driving past the village hall with Liz Jo and Tom on the way to church for the Christmas service. As we passed the corrugated Iron former nissan hut I noticed a sign hanging outside by the roadside. It was quite large and hanging from a crossbar by sturdy chains was a board with a the signage neatly marked out. The wording was burned into the wood all very symmetrical and professional looking. I made an emergency stop as my subconscious brain read the message. ‘For Rent’ it said ‘One man and his tractor and trailer-any task taken on- £2 an hour!!’ underneath in the same branding was my telephone number. As I arrived at church a beaming face welcomed me, nothing said nothing ever admitted. My phone rang time and again over the next few days and I had to politely decline the offer of work.
I needed to get my own back and at some point David told me that he, like many farmers, was in bed by 9 pm. He would do a little reading before falling asleep. In the local Homebase I had seen a large torch which was capable of giving out 8 million candles of light. I bought it a plan hatched. One night around 9pm I drove up the road leading to his farm house. My daughter Jo was with me giggling and protesting at the same time. ‘You can’t do this dad’ followed by a burst of laughter. We stopped the land rover and I took aim at the upstairs bedroom which I recognised as the one with the light on inside. The light went out,I waited two minutes then turned on the mighty torch. It was just spectacular. Shortly the windowed opened and there was David in his pyjamas. The brightness of the light blinding him he sort of thrashed around with his arms in the night air. After several minutes listening to his shouts I reversed away keeping the light on until we were out of range. Nothing said when I next saw him, no comment, nothing.
The revenge was well planned and spectacular. It was probably a month or so later and we were having a dinner party. The dining room in The Rectory was superb and perhaps 12 or so were seated around the table. The room was dimly lit with candles. Suddenly the lighting scene was to change. A shaft off light so brilliant many ducked beneath the table filled the room. I looked out from another room and there at the bottom of my drive was a tractor. Obviously wired up to it was a series of auxiliary lights and by its side was the figure of a man with a pronounced limp, it was David. Again nothing was said although several months later I find some lights in his work shop. “What are these” I asked. “Oh” said he “I got them in an auction they came from a Harrier Jump jet, they can come in useful:!!
The tales went on over the years and as they did I learned of pranks played and received by his friends many of whom I got to know. Perhaps the most spectacular and ridiculous was when one of them got married. He had gone off on honeymoon and David and his pals decided to deconstruct the mans front porch, drive a tractor into the thing such that its wheels were well and truly under the frame of the original construction. They then rebuilt the porch around the tractor. When the man and his bride returned home they were confronted with a remarkable sight, a tractor impaled in the front of their house but neatly cocooned in brickwork. How on earth did anyone think that one out or indeed consider doing such a thing? David that is who.
I could write stories for hours suffice it to say my relationship with him and indeed one of his sons was joyous. I learned so much about things I had never ever considered. I realised how hard farmers work and crucially why Devon looks so good. It’s not just the land its what the farmers do to care for it. As in all things in life meeting and spending time with anyone from a different back ground is enriching and humbling at the same time. In this case it was also very funny.
Tales of a Life Well Lived 