If the thought of camping sends a cold shiver down your spine, try Featherdown Farm (From Dorset Society)

If the thought of camping sends a cold shiver down your spine, try Featherdown Farm

3:00pm Saturday 1st August 2009

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TO ME camping means wearing too much bling and flouncing a lot, possibly while wearing chiffon.

And if someone suggested that I should like to spend a moment – let alone a precious weekend – in a field in Blighty, under canvas and with no hot water or electricity I would have simply assumed a) they didn’t know me or b) that they were insane.

Until, that is, a brochure landed on my desk which managed to make camping look not just comfortable, but, dare I say, desirable.

It was to promote Feather Down Farm Days, a unique and eco-friendly approach to roughing it that entails, well, not much roughing it at all.

Page after page of beautifully-shot cosy log cabins draped in tenting, like mini marquees, full of rough-hewn wooden furniture and nestling in lush farmlands either at dusk and ablaze with the suffused amber glow of oil lanterns and flickering candles, or in dappled daylight and awash with fresh-faced, Boden-esque families.

Gap-toothed, freckle-faced children peeped out from darling little carved-wood recess beds straight out of Snow White’s cottage, or from behind chicken coops, arms clutching piles of freshly-laid eggs. And it got even better.

All the ‘tents’, it promised, would feature adorable little wood-burning stoves (and a have a spare one outside, for hot balmy evenings), come fully-equipped with a hotch-potch of rustic enamel crocks, pots and pans, have a sink with cold running water, a cool chest and, the thing that finally hooked me in, a proper flushing toilet!

Plus you could hire your own chicken coop to ensure hot and cold running eggs at all times, request a cooking pot (certain sites only) and the raw ingredients for a bit of Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall-style alfresco casseroling (using locally-sourced, organic ingredients from the farmer or purchased at the on-site ‘honesty shop’). Alternatively, you could just ask Mrs Farmer to deliver one of her home-cooked suppers straight to your flap.

A quick flash of the brochure was all it took to convince my husband, also a hitherto rabid anti-camper, that it was a good idea to go for a weekend and no persuasion whatsoever was required for our three- and five-year-old once they’d caught sight of that cupboard bed with the carved hearts.

So, before we could say: “What’s a firelighter?” we were on our way to Billingsmoor Farm in Butterleigh, near Collumpton in mid-Devon and home to our hosts, Jane and Robert Lammie.

The 320-acre organic dairy farm, part of the Prince of Wales’ Duchy Estate, is set in a landscape of ridiculously pretty rolling hills but as we trundled along the narrow, cow-parsley festooned lane towards it, I couldn’t help but think that while sexy brochures are all very well, we were in reality heading for a working farm where a 140-strong herd of organic Friesian cattle require feeding, milking, calving and maintaining, and wondered if it might all be a bit too good to be true.

But as soon as we were greeted by Jayne and Robert’s son Edward, all big smiles and hearty handshakes, and had a quick scout around, all doubts evaporated.

It was just gorgeous. The location, the accommodation, the atmosphere, the damn stillness of the place.

And the adventure started straight away.

First, you select your wheelbarrow from the car park, you need this to ferry your luggage to your tent, thus ensuring no ugly vehicles spoil the sensational scenery. It also turned out to be pretty handy for lugging stuff back from the shop and doubled as a go-cart for the girls.

Next, you go to the shop, where you take what you need, make a note of it on your personalised ‘chit’ and settle up with the farmer at the end of your stay.

Oh, and while you’re at it, don’t forget to grab a couple of frozen ‘hot’ water bottles, which act as giant ice blocks for your cool chest and can be replaced as required.

Then it’s off to the two-bedroom (oh, yes!) tent for a quick lesson on how to light – and cook with – a wood-burning stove. The logs and kindling are supplied and all I can say is ‘easy-peasy’, in fact it was such a novelty, we constantly competed for control of the thing!

By now the girls had not only test driven the now-legendary bed but had also to their great delight discovered a room with a set of bunk beds.

While they decided where they’d sleep, we got to grips with the miner’s-style oil lamps, lit the candle-powered light shades over the big wooden dining table, sparked up a couple of the storm lanterns and cracked open a bottle of chilled rosé.

Outside the picnic bench (situated next to the pot of growing herbs) overlooking the amazing views of sloping hills and patchwork fields momentarily distracted us from the chore of unpacking; once we found the big old slouchy deckchairs, it was a lost cause.

As if to ensure everything was just perfect, it was an exceptionally warm evening and so, stove warming, lights flickering and kids sound asleep, we sat back, drank in our surroundings and knew we were going to love it.

Next day, the sun shone and we were up with the cows; it was time to explore, but only after rustling up a pot of tea, and some eggs and bacon on the stove (get me!).

We went for a treasure hunt in the woods, where we found brilliant dens made by previous visitors, little streams and endless windy paths.

Next we trekked across the fields, only to be told where to go by a seriously fast-moving and very peed-off cow, who we later learned was miffed as her calf had been taken from her that morning for some treatment or other.

Oh, the perils of country life, eh?

We got back to Camp Gibson just in time for Jayne’s farm tour, where we saw the cows being milked. Then the kids got to help feed the latest batch of calves, hold their noses in the whiffy pig sty and go all gooey over Megan, the farm spaniel’s fifteen brand new puppies.

When we got back to our tent, Rob was lighting the big stone bread oven that sat in our field and so we got to meet the neighbours as we all gathered to have a go at cooking our various dinners in it. Pizzas, organic sausages, a bread mix bought on the spur of the moment from the shop, everything worked a treat and everyone compared notes on how things tasted, which broke the ice further.

As the day drew to an end, the cows, a few gallons lighter, meandered past us back to their fields for the evening.

The girls, dirty as street urchins played wheelbarrow chariots on the hill in front of the tent with their new gaggle of friends and Toby, the farm terrier nuzzled my foot.

Am I converted?

What do you think?

Featherdown Factfile:
Tents sleep up to six people.

Prices from £195-£495 midweek; £245-£545 weekends; and £395-£795 for a week.

Contact: www.featherdown.co.uk
Tel: 01420 80804

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