Chapter 22 - What Mulfra means to me
The name “Mulfra” - which in 1549 was part of the Manor of Mulfra – has, over hundreds of years, had various different ways of being spelt: Moelvre (1284), Molvre (1317), Mulvera (1403), Mulvra (1513), and Mulfra (1621). Mulfra means a bare hill which, I suppose, is quite true because no trees grow on Mulfra Hill, which lies just a few fields north of Mulfra Farm. “You could shoot a mouse on it,” as the old saying goes.
What does it mean to me? First and foremost it is my home. The walls are over three foot thick which make it feel very comfortable and safe. Secondly, it is an idyllic setting just to the south of the summit of Mulfra Hill of which we are commoners of 200 acres. The hill is dominated by Mulfra Quoit, which is the remains of a Neolithic burial chamber. The farmhouse and buildings are surrounded on three sides by our 30 acres of land. Stone hedges define the fields to the north of the land; above the fields is an area of croft which is mostly rough ground and gorse bushes. From here there are spectacular views of the countryside and the sea from the Lizard to way beyond Penlee Point, as well as St. Buryan church tower and Godolphin Hill, a vast panorama at the southwest of Cornwall with such a broad expanse of sky … it is all so peaceful.
When we moved here in 1981 to look after Roy’s uncle there were only three other dwellings. It is very different today. The surrounding buildings have been converted and there our now eleven homes. Of course they all have names relevant to the various properties. The land in front of us used to be farmed by people who lived in Newmill. When Mr and Mrs Williams bought it they lived in a caravan for a while, then, in the sixties, they had a bungalow built, Mulfra Bungalow. The barn became The Old Barn; then came Mulfra Barns, which were actually cows’ houses. Then The Old Cottage, and The Old Stable (also at one time a cows’ house). Mulfra Cottage has become Mulfra House and a small barn is now known as Mulfra Cottage. A cows’ house which years ago belonged to “Butcher Polglaze” has now been named Mulfra Studios. This latest conversion is only across the lane from our back door. It is a long building with a huge granite lintel over what looks, from here, like double doors with an engraved cross above. At the far end there is a very shiny industrial-like stainless steel chimney; it looks like a Chapel of Rest and a Crematorium. Not the most cheerful thing to look at when you go out of the door!
I can’t shout to Roy like I used to when he is out in the fields for fear of disturbing the neighbours. Before the conversions we could only see distant lights at night and the narrow lane now has much more traffic. The building work over the last few years has been a nightmare with heavy lorries churning up the lane, sandblasting during the evenings, weekends and even over bank holidays. The old milk stand, outside our yard gate, where years ago the milk churns were put for collection, was half knocked down. Now, plans have been passed for a swimming pool nearby … it’s getting more like “Dallas” every day!!
Our white-faced heifer used to trot down past the back door looking in the window as if to say: “Hi, here I am! I’m out again!” We would go after her and turn her back. What would she do now to the ornamental gardens, carefully placed granite rocks and neat gravel drives? We could never keep her in, so she had to go. Her freedom was curtailed. Sometimes I think that is what is happening to us. It is not only with regard to a wandering heifer, but to the TB tests and mountains of paperwork that have to be completed, even for a smallholding.
Every calf that is born has to have its own identity. This is done in two ways. Firstly, a calf has to have two ear tags: a large yellow plastic one, the other one metal. On these are a crown symbol and the herd number which is unique to the holding as well as a six digit number that is unique to the calf. These tags we order from a specialist manufacturer who passes on this information to the BCMS (British Cattle Movement Service) who in turn send us an application form for a Cattle Passport. These forms are numbered to correspond with the numbers on the ear tags. On this form I enter the relevant details: date of birth, sex, breed, sire and dame’s ear tag number. The form has to be sent away no later than three weeks after the birth, otherwise the calf will have no identity and it will be impossible to move and therefore virtually worthless. Within a few days the passports for the calves will arrive and I will check them to see that all the information is correct. The passports are slightly larger than a normal-sized cheque book and carry all the details of a particular calf. Inside are several postcard-sized cards which have to be completed, torn out and sent off every time the animal is moved. Panic sets in when only five passports out of the six come back and I have an anxious wait for Simon the postman to deliver the sixth. Why are the Single Farm Payment Forms now printed in fancy italic numbers where you are not sure if it is an ‘8’ or a ‘0’? Usually I do all the paper work in the evenings because I would rather be outside during the daytime, and I need to check with Roy on some things. Usually all I say to him is: “Keep quiet, I don’t want to make any mistakes.” Or “Sign this.” By this time it is very late and all I want to do is go to bed!!!!
However, I realise that all this is a small price to pay to be amongst our cows, calves, dogs, bantams, pigeons and guinea fowl and to live in our lovely old house. We are never free but on the other hand we have so much freedom.
The farm is also a focal point for family gatherings. We have five grandchildren between the ages of 5 and 14. For them Mulfra is one big natural playground; rocks to climb on and over, mud, secret places under the thorn trees for camps and picnics, space for playing football; best of all, dressed in their oldest clothes, they have freedom. When it is too wet to play outside we have, in the cows’ house, a very ingenious table tennis table. A large piece of plywood painted green, has been marked out with insulation tape and a £2 net fixed across it, this has been placed on four redundant milk churns. These aluminum or stainless steel cylinder-like containers, with two handles near the top and a close-fitting lid, a bit like a flat mushroom, held ten gallons of milk each. They were used to transport the milk to the milk factory, and were taken from the farm on a flat-bed lorry before the days of the large milk tankers.
Mulfra Farm is also very special for hundreds of people who have stayed here for Bed and Breakfast over the last twenty years, many of whom have become great friends; like Ben, who is godfather to our grandson Matthew John, and Pam and Don - who loved to do jobs for us. They all enjoyed the homely surroundings, beautiful walks and the general atmosphere of the place. People from the Cornwall Archaeology Preservation Group also enjoy coming here periodically to trim out our Iron Age Village, a splendid job they do as well! This too provides added interest at Mulfra.
I wonder what the inhabitants of those huts, all those years ago, would think about their surroundings today? Actually up there it hasn’t changed all that much! It was home to them in the same way that Mulfra is home to me. Apart from their need to hunt wild animals, they too had to use the land to produce food, they too sought protection from the elements, they needed warmth from the hearth and the security of their surroundings … just like us really!!
Monica Olds