The map above shows most of the extent of Scrape Farm, the largest in the Rapnel Valley. It extends for about a mile, although the fallow area is only a few hundred yards wide, with the northern fells above it. Few crops are grown here, the farm being mainly used for raising dairy cattle, horses, and pigs, but wheat and barley are cultivated in the east and west fields, and vegetables such as beets and turnips in the area east of the farm towards Gumbrook. While the fells are common land, most of the sheep raised on them belong to the farm. Looming above the 'west field' is the Bronze Age fort called Coo's Ring. While much diminished by erosion, it consists of a large oval area surrounded by an earthen embankment. It has never been properly excavated by archeologists to determine its age and full layout. Below it lies the caravan camp site, which was built by Tom Scrape in 1957 to exploit the rising holiday industry in post-War times of deprivation -- it was popular amongst working-class residents of Sheffield who could not afford travelling to Blackpool. There are four permanent caravans ('trailers' or mobile homes as Americans call them) on site for rental, but drop-ins are welcome, as well as tent dwellers, who are encouraged to use the Rapnel river bank. Three small farm houses, owned by sheepherders using Arlowe Hill, are south of the High Road, where the valley narrows by Long's Meadow. The one by the marsh is known as Larkspur, where Andy 'Mustache' Winkle lives -- he is reputed to be the local warlock, although to my mind his most salient feature is his eponymic lip growth.
A local legend features an immortal troll called Old Hobby, who is alleged to dwell in a souterraine hidden somewhere in Coo's Ring. I have written about this elsewhere, but would like to amuse you with a short tale told one night round the campfire in the tree-lined park along the bank of the stream next to the caravan park. Hot dogs roasting, marshmallows toasting, ghost stories on a warm summer midnight -- just like an American boys' camp, I've been told.
"Smart folk dun't sleep o' the night in Coo's Ring," said the old shepherd.
"Then why are you up here at nearly midnight?" asked the camper.
"Old Hobby dun't freet me, Boy. I watch o'er sheeps, and troll good friend to sheeps.
'Sides," he murmured. "I got me t' undergroun place to lie low and eat me grub when t' moon rise."
"Well, there's the moon already up these three hours, and full at that. No sign of Coo the Slayer."
"Ye wun't recernize um when ye sees um. Old Hobby he is, and Coo the Slayer was 'is great grandsire in days when t' giants roamed these hills. 'Ad to been bigger and meaner to best them buggers."
"And what is your name, old timer?"
"Hubbuc indeed was I baptised, and not in no church."
"Then, have you ever seen this troll?"
"Oh, yes. Oh my yes! I knows 'um."
"What should one do when he sees him?"
"Run, lad, if ye can. If not...."
"So if I should beg for my li"
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The farm is at least 600 years old, inhabited by the same family, although the farmhouse itself only dates back to the late 1700s. Arranged around a courtyard there is the house, a pig sty, a garage for tractors and Land Rovers, a stable (8 horses, by last count), and a dairy barn with a silo. The grazing paddock leads to the west to East and West Fields and Long's Meadow, which are used to provide wheat, barley, and silage. At the southwest corner of the paddock is the old Toll House, now a bus stop and house for farm workers -- although one can wait all day for a bus to come nowadays to take up-valley residents to Laxminster. The house is rather 'fancy' as such things go, with eight bedrooms no less to take care of the large family. Parish register and 1990 census list the following inhabitants:
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