Description

A farmyard is hardly an ideal campsite, but when a farmyard is the only available place other considerations must go overboard. It so happened during the wetter part of September 1930 that I found myself wandering around Castletown, Isle of Man, at 11 p.m. A farmer’s boy took me home with him and gave me the alternative of a large field containing a fully grown bull, or the farmyard which was detached from the farmhouse and surrounded on three sides by the field; the road and shippons covering the fourth side. I dislike bulls so I chose the farmyard, found a spot that boasted a patch of grass amongst the cobbles, and there set up my outfit.