The Old Farmhouse

I made this old sign that hung over the door. We still have it amongst our junk.

The Old Farmhouse – how we got it.
I graduated from Glen Iris Theological College (Melbourne) in 1975 and began a six-year ministry in Palmerston North Church.  I think it was in our first year there a combined picnic was organized between the Palmerston North Church and the Wanganui Church. Somebody sorted out a friendly farmer about halfway between and we gathered in a paddock on his property, right by a stand of native trees and bush and next to a big old farmhouse. The farmer, somebody’s relative, wandered amongst us chatting.  He lived in a modern house down by the road. This old farmhouse was the original where he had grown up. It had been divided into two possible flats when he and his bride shared it with his mother and father, but was now opened up into one very BIG old house. The old style kitchen (coal range) could fit a table tennis table so that you could play and still have the range burning. We got talking to the farmer about the house. It was rented out to some shady characters who were due to come before court for growing drugs. He had given them notice. “What are you going to do with it then? Rent it out again?” we were cheeky enough to ask. “No” he replied, “It’s not too flash inside and we have only had trouble from tenants. I’ll use it to store implements and tools. I might cut a hole in the side and use it as a hay shed.”  We went home and could not get this farmhouse out of our mind. We decided to be extra cheeky. We worked out we had three weeks holiday each year. To camp in camping grounds for those three weeks we would have to pay more than $500. We could holiday at this farmhouse. It could be a getaway place for us. We wrote to the farmer and asked if we could pay him $10 a week all year and use it when we were able. We knew we were being cheeky, but it would be better than it being wrecked as a hay shed. To our surprise he said “yes” invited us across for a meal and the deal was done. We had two small children, but knew more would be coming. We furnished it with old second hand bunks, chairs and stuff. A cracked old Table tennis table from the Church went down there. 

So many memories

The house was well used. We used it for holidays. We would go there (it was 26 miles out of town) and just blob out for lovely lazy summer holidays. Often the weather was hot and it was a great place to stay, read books, play with the kids and rest. Family from further afield would come and stay, there was always plenty of room. (It had heaps of bedrooms) There was a swimming hole in the river nearby, the stand of bush for the kids to play in and just a lovely lazy atmosphere. The farmer grew peas and invited us to gather peas from what was left after the harvesting machines had been through. We gathered enough peas for ourselves and other families to freeze for a year’s supply. I have a lovely memory of my little boy kicking his way through the long grass in the paddock singing at the top of his voice. We had youth camps there, with forty of us crammed into its rooms. I recall the kids spending hours with an old air rifle of mine shooting macracapa tree nuts off fence posts and gates.  Another time we made a circuit among the trees and one of the young guys had us taking turns riding his motorbike around. The atmosphere was so great, like a big family home. The parents would come on the Sunday afternoon, have afternoon tea, a barbeque evening meal and take their kids home. In the Church there were a number of young married couples with small children, just like us. Every now and then we would get together and go down to the old farmhouse after work on a Friday. We would just blob out there enjoying each other’s company.  We had a stereo and music, we wandered in the bush, couples would take time out together, knowing their kids were looked after.. it was just a great place to be. The farmer would park his tractor in the old orchard next to the house and say, “If the kids want to play on it let them.” We would often invite him and his kids for the evening meal.  I would go in and take the service on the Sunday and come back out for lunch. Sometimes other church members would come out for the Sunday afternoon.  We would all drift back to town sometime on Sunday evening. Burned out ministers would ring up and say, “We have a weekend off, can we use your farmhouse?” We used it once for a marriage enrichment weekend. There was a guru from Australia (Kevin Harvey) who was to run a weekend in fancy accommodation in Wellington. It turned out that there were not enough registrations so it was cancelled. We registered, my brother and his wife registered and my wife’s brother and his wife. Instead of cancelling out right, we all went to the old farmhouse with Kevin and his wife and had a great time. We got our $10 a week worth out of the Old Farmhouse.

Sensuous Farmhouse memories

We as a family would spend long summer days there. We were in our twenties and early thirties, had been married for a number of years, but were still very virile. Our favourite song was Billie Joe Speirs, “Blanket on the ground”. For three weeks we would wear the minimum of clothing, swim down by the river, sometimes with less on. We, as a couple, were so relaxed we could hardly keep our hands off each other during the day. At night after the children were in bed, no TV, warm nights (we could light a big fire if it was cool) in an isolated farmhouse, what else was there for a young couple to do? We lit candles and incense sticks and enjoyed night after night of imaginative, long, relaxed and playful lovemaking. We’d sometimes take turns at having a daytime nap to make up for the late nights. (I had decided early in my marriage that if I was going to get the quality and quantity of sex I desired, I would have to make sure we were both enjoying it to the full.) They were extra special holidays that we look back on with fond memories.

Coitus interrupted – two Farmhouse stories

We had my wife’s sister and family staying with us one holiday. It was a warm moonlit night so we asked if they could babysit while we went for a walk. We wandered hand in hand across the paddock to the patch of trees and bush. We sat on the grass in a clearing and talked. Intimate conversation led to physical intimacy. But wait… “What was that noise?” Probably just a twig dropping through the branches… carry on… more clothing lost.. “What’s that?” more noises. … carry on… then the unmistakable sound of heavy breathing that was louder than our own! We looked through the gloom. Definitely heavy breathing! May be two lots of heavy breathing? There were dark shadowy figures in the bush? This certainly dampened our lovemaking and gathering up our clothing we rushed across the paddock back to the farmhouse, stopping briefly inside the gate to dress before walking calmly into the lounge as if nothing had happened. We discovered the next day that the neighbour’s cattle had broken the fence and come through the bush into the paddock.  Second story… We had holidayed briefly in Auckland with friends, but had our car stolen while we were there. The police told us it was probably stolen for parts and that we would never see it again. We hired a car and drove back to Palmerston North where we had another little car. We went out to the Old Farmhouse to finish our holiday. It was on the Friday evening after dinner, we tucked the kids into bed and retired to the lounge, candles and incense sticks etc. We were enjoying ourselves when we thought we heard the noise of a car. We peeked out the window and sure enough a car was travelling up the long drive from the gate and was already almost coming through the orchard! What to do? -Blow out candles, throw out incense sticks, return lounge to look like a lounge, gather discarded lingerie and clothing, get dressed in respectable clothing, and (calmly) welcome the visitors. (phew!) It was two elders and their wives. They had received a message that the police had found our car in Auckland and wanted to let us know. (There were no cell phones in the 70’s) Their wives had made some nice supper to bring with them and they had driven down from town for a friendly sociable visit to the Old Farmhouse.  I don’t know if they ever guessed what they interrupted?

One of the crowds of people enjoying the backyard of the old farmhouse.

 Post script

Two things follow this story. After we finished there the friendly farmer sold the farm, and later got into a spot of bother and took his own life. We were very sad about that. We have visited the spot since and were pleased that the person who presently owned the property had restored the old farmhouse to its original glory and it looked like the stately mansion it was up on the hill overlooking the farm. We would loved to have been able to see inside it.

We are going on holiday to an isolated farmhouse. (I doubt the same things will happen with the same intensity at our age) It brings back memories of our old Farmhouse.


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