by Pamela Thomas

Once upon a time a long time ago, I had a toy farm and I’d love to  know if it is still out there giving someone pleasure. It was a splendid toy with the best attributes of both a doll's house and a farm, suitable, in those non-PC days for boys and girls. All I have left is one little pig, a reminder that I did not imagine the whole set-up. Let me tell you the story. 

My Dad was in the army and, as other post-war forces children will recall, moving was part of the routine of life. This meant packing and packing, meant arguments about leaving, selling or swapping the out-grown toys which would take up space or be difficult to transport. In the spring of 1956 I was six years old and the dolls house my parents had made for me when I was two had been in storage for three years. Janet next door was nine and her family were about to move and she was judged to have outgrown her farm so it was passed to me. I suspect my parents were tired of me wanting my dolls house back. 

The farm was lovely and as far as I know had been bought after the war in Germany by Janet’s Dad. It looked hand- made and was certainly painted and decorated in an odd selection of colours, suggesting that the maker had used what was to hand. It was a single story building with a steep thatched roof that lifted off for access. The windows had fancy metal frames with some sort of plastic sheet. 

At one end there were two rooms and a wide passage with furniture for people. One set of table, bench and chairs in dark green and another in dark brown. Both were decorated with little painted flowers. There was a cuckoo-style clock with a tiny swinging pendulum to match the brown suite. 

The bedroom had a wardrobe with proper opening doors and two rather cot-like beds in pale blue. The dolls were jointed in the ‘Dutch doll’ fashion but the heads were carved with features and with hats on. However, they did stand, bend and sit well, in spite of having to wear their hats indoors! The dolls would probably have been something close to 1/16 scale, even though the furniture was a bit chunky. 

The rest of the building was taken up with farm animals, their accommodation and equipment. Horses and cows on wheels, a family of pigs, a guard-dog with a kennel and assorted hens and geese. The space was divided into byres and stables with mangers for feed and a little raised hen house area with a ramp for access. 

Added to this, the passage provided space to store a plough and a gorgeous pale blue open carriage. 

Now we come to the sad bit. In the autumn of 1956 we were due to move from Chester to Bury St Edmunds. Dad went ahead for a few weeks to arrange a house for us and so on. After one weekend at home he was getting a lift back in a car with a colleague and, being a practical man, decided to take the farm to save packing it up, as the farm itself was the tricky thing. I can see him now, tucking a blanket round that farm on the back seat and promising it would be safe. 

But within days Dad’s unit was posted at 24 hours notice to the Suez crisis. Move postponed and farm entrusted to a friend to pack up and send back to me. Ha! Farm never seen again! 

It cannot have vanished from the face of the earth. Someone kept it or sent it off to get lost in the post and end up in one of those post office sales for untraceable goodies or something. Someone out there must have had it as a toy, even missing three horses, four cows and two pigs it had a lot of play value. 

So, has anybody seen my farm? I hate the idea that it got destroyed and I would be delighted if anyone out there has any knowledge of its existence, history or even location - it was such a splendid toy. I would love to hear from anyone with information or a photo of something similar.