A glorious 1st April morning at Acton Scott! Sunshine warmed my back as I was shown round the farm. A Norfolk Black turkey cock gobbled at us and fanned his tail. A small hen took a dustbath under a waggon.
You’re looking at the Shepherd Poet’s Hut.
From here poems will be read, written, shared and hugely enjoyed.
We explored the bailiff’s house, which contains a dairy whose years of cheese-making have permeated its cool walls, so that you breathe in a faint sour scent of milk just as the door opens.
Upstairs is a schoolroom, with single wooden desks and an authoritarian atmosphere. This is the kind of place to write poems that require syllables counted (on the abacus?), or a very strict rhyme scheme…
We’ve got an outline now of the days I’ll be on site at the Farm – for more information just click here.