Host 3. Ahhh, host 3, where do I begin? Let's start with the Good.
The Good
This Devonshire smallholding was an amazing creation of Mr Host's, a guy who took over a blank slate of a field 15 years ago and has gradually transformed it into an idyllic place, comprising an orchard, forest garden, market garden, and flower garden/workshop/lawn area, with packing/storage sheds, polytunnels, chicken, geese and duck enclosures, compost loos and compost heaps. He had placed an emphasis on planting heritage and rare strains of plant species, and creating the types of habitats that attract the birds and bees etc. Clearly a labour of love, it was pretty darn cool, and basically the dream smallholding of any self-sufficiency aspirant. Mr Host was hugely enthusiastic and a mine of information, and I learned a lot from him. I was also provided with a nice variety of jobs (apple-picking, log-sawing and goat-milking were my favourites) and the work was paced nicely with tea+snack breaks. Although the days were longer, they felt a bit easier than previously, I think this may have been because I've finally got my stamina and muscles trained up a bit, yay!
Mr and Mrs Host were both very patient and welcoming; this was the first place where I felt like the spirit of WWOOF was really entered into, with them taking a personal interest in their WWOOFers, providing a stimulating experience for them and making sure they lived as part of the family. They were happy to give lifts to the nearest town with a bus stop on days off, recommend places to visit and made an effort to be generous and considerate. Mrs Host was a good cook and the food was tasty, vegetarian and wholesome. They also had a huge collection of books, which they were happy to lend and recommend, a definite plus for a book nerd like me!
The location was lovely with some nice seaside towns and beautiful countryside within reachable distance. I even managed to get to Totnes (a car, bus and train ride away but just about do-able!) one weekend, a town I have heard so much good stuff about - I had a bit of a mission on to see it for myself.
However, as with many things in life, the goodness of this place was accompanied by some down-sides...
The Bad
Living as one of a complete stranger's family when you are in your thirties is challenging! At various moments I found myself beginning to feel a bit stifled and restricted. I had to suppress some inner 'Kevin the Teenager' urges which I reckon are the natural result of having to surrender your independence to someone else, live right on top of them 24/7, be ever polite and obey all of their household rules even if you don't agree with them (I don't know about anyone else, but I also tend to get a bit Kevin the Teenager when I stay with my own family for anything longer than a few days!).
There was hardly any proper down time at this host's. In fact, each successive host has made a mockery of my silly little qualms regarding people-time at the previous place! At this one, I was pretty much 'on duty' until about 9pm every night when I would excuse myself to go to my room and relax for about an hour before passing out into a physical-work-and-fresh-air coma. It felt rude and lazy if I escaped at any other point in the day, and there was a definite emphasis on helping with/cooking dinner, washing up, being available to help out with whatever was required during breaks and in the evening, chatting and spending time with the hosts etc. Which is totally reasonable, but I couldn't help resenting the lack of time to myself.
I also struggled with the beloved other 'members of the family', i.e. the two cats, dog and puppy. I have never had any pets and was brought up by a mother whose advice re: animals was along the lines of 'Don't touch them, they're DIRTY' and 'Don't go near that doggy it will BITE YOU!' I have kind of got used to being around animals at friend's houses, but here one of the cats' main mission in life was to try and sleep on my pillow, which I found absolutely, shudderingly horrendous. Despite me hightailing it out to the caravan, in a matter of days it seemed like everything I owned was covered in pet hair, including my tongue. Even worse, the puppy of the house was going through a biting stage and particularly liked to bite holes in my favourite socks. Grrrr!
Finally, I had some stuff with Mr Host which it's difficult to explain without sounding like a total bitch. Mr Host was one of those incredibly talkative and enthusiastic people who you immediately warm to. However, he was also one of those people who hardly ever lets you speak, which after a while gets very frustrating. I totally respect the fact that he had gigantic stores of knowledge and it was a privilege to learn from him, but after a few days the frequent 'discussions' we had began to feel like lectures. Ones I had heard already quite a few times. Ones which I couldn't really participate in, or contradict in anyway, because Mr Host was so very sure he was right about everything! Despite being in agreement with many of his views, after two weeks of hearing them A LOT, I began to feel like actually I might spend the rest of my life shopping at Tescos, never recycling again, working in IT, reading the Daily Mail, supporting fracking and big business and becoming a member of the Conservative Party. He also spent a fair bit of time moaning about other WWOOFers to me, even before he knew what kind of WWOOFer I would turn out to be, which was kind of unpleasant.
The Ugly
Me. Me and my teenage feelings of resentment and irritation towards these lovely people, that was the Ugly in the situation!!
I can't emphasise enough that Mr and Mrs Host (or perhaps in this case I should say Mama and Papa Host) had total hearts of gold and were super kind and friendly to me and the other WWOOFer staying with them. Yet somehow I still had to fight quite hard not to have a total breakdown and scream 'I can't listen to even one more word about climate change! I want to kick your puppy in the face! I am a grown woman with my own opinions and ways of doing things!...and, oh yeah... can I have a lift into town please?' in true hypocritical teenage fashion.
Although I managed to restrain myself, I still felt guilty for having such horrible thoughts about people who only meant well towards me. Ugh! The only other people I have felt such a mixture of affection and frustration for have been members of my own family - which probably just indicates how close I became to Mama and Papa Host even in the short time I stayed at Host 3.
The verdict? Holy crap, I have no idea! I'm still processing.
At the moment I am having a little time out from WWOOFing, doing the rounds of family, with a nice trip to Brittany thrown in. I'm definitely in need of a break, so I'm taking one, because I CAN. Woohoo!
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