Wwoofers nowhere to be seen

We’ve been stood up.

Last Monday, Lucinda and her friend, from England, were going to be joining us as wwoofers. They told us twice they were coming, then nothing more heard. Allison drove in to the train station just in case.

On Friday, I headed down to the train to pick up Christiane from Germany. No Christiane, and she hasn’t answered her emails since then.

This Monday, we were due to get Anton, Jonas and Christoffer, from Sweden. At least they emailed us on Saturday to say that they are staying an extra week in Sydney. We need the help this week, so I’m a bit crook on them too, as we have turned other wwoofers away since giving them the spot.

And last night Allison went in to pick up Jeremy from France. Obviously we were a bit suspicious by that point, as we hadn’t heard from Jeremy since Friday, but we wouldn’t want to leave someone stranded.

Lots of wwoof hosts get this situation, and we’ve been pretty lucky until now. I read about one wwoof host who drove three hours to pick someone up, to find they hadn’t come. At least we’re only 10 minutes away, and usually have something else to do in town.

It’s not hard to text us to say that you’ve changed your mind. At least we can then offer the spot to another wwoofer.

I gather there’s a bit more fruit-picking work around this year. No doubt it becomes available at short notice, then I suppose backpackers don’t want to close off their other options too early, in case the picking doesn’t work out. Charitably, perhaps some of the wwoofers intended to get in touch, but now find themselves out of town, without mobile reception or internet.

Juggling rooms for wwoofers is surprisingly complicated. We like to have 3-4 wwoofers at any time, with a mix of countries and sexes.

Luckily, Nellie from Canada is staying a few days longer than planned. Hopefully we’ll get another wwoofer or two this week.


This coming weekend is our “On Ilkla Moor” medieval event on the property. Ilkla Moor is a silly song in a Yorkshire dialect. If you go courting on Ilkla Moor without a hat, you’ll catch a cold and die, and then we’ll bury you, the worms will eat you, the ducks will eat the worms, then we’ll eat the ducks, then we’ll have etten thee.

So various of our numerous ducks will be donating themselves for this venture, also some roosters that have been waking us up early, and Cornelius the peacock who has become very aggressive. So here’s a big hint: don’t misbehave at Cockatrice Farm, or you know what might happen.

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