I'm wrist-deep in the sticky viscera of a pig and a chicken when it strikes me that the sausage-making course at Kate Humble's farm isn't for the faint of heart – nor for devout Muslims, nor Jews, nor vegetarians of any sort. However, it is, perhaps, a course for animal lovers.
The majority of the people who have joined me on this latest course at the Humble by Nature farm in Monmouthshire are extremely interested in their food and, to a person, believe that it's better to know where what you eat comes from, rather than blindly buying from supermarkets. So even though we're mashing porcine back fat and emulsifying chicken thigh meat, then preparing to force it all into a sheep's entrails, we're fairly certain that (a) the animals are past caring by this point, and (b) that they had a pretty jolly life until their humane demise.
Bless the eloquence of the French: their word (long since kidnapped by English) for this largely barbaric process is charcuterie. It's a soothing, somehow romantic word, like abattoir. "Charcuterie from the abattoir" sounds so much nicer than "links from the slaughterhouse". Even so, squeezing sausage meat into sheep "skins" is as pragmatic and romance-free as school sex education. "Ensure there are no air bubbles and don't burst it," says instructor Graham Waddington while I titter like an adolescent fool.
Charcuterie is the newest course offered at Humble by Nature: since February the BBC presenter's farm has been running a range of rural skills programmes. There's hedge laying, foraging, beekeeping, pig raising, lambing, an introduction to smallholding and so on – the sorts of things city types come to learn in order to be self-sufficient should London be devoured by zombies.
Waddington's instructions rarely leave anything to the imagination: "Veal needs to be minced very finely to break down any sinew," he says when someone asks what meats can be used in sausages. But he speaks with the calm authority of someone who has generations of gore under his fingernails.
I'm quite surprised, then, when he reveals that he's only been doing this for eight years – before this he had a job as a workplace investigator for local government. I assume he was at least raised in the countryside then?
"No, Wimbledon," he says with a chuckle. But his successful transition from salaryman to meat master is encouraging to others hoping for a similar transformation.
Kate Humble and her husband, Ludo Graham, bought this old farm from Monmouthshire council last year. Like many council farms around the country, it was somewhat dilapidated. The local authority, having acquired it a century ago to help keep agricultural skills relevant for the next generation, was keen to sell it off. Resurrected as Humble by Nature, it is once again fulfilling that remit.
Of the plot's 117 acres, about seven are used for the Humble By Nature courses; resident farmers Tim and Sarah Stephens manage the majority of the rest as a working farm. They also help out with the courses, and live in half of the restored farmhouse at centre of the site. The other half, known as the Piggery, has been renovated as overwhelmingly lovely onsite accommodation for guests.
"We aimed the courses at people like us. We'd wished we had someone down the road that we could go to when we didn't know what to do," says Humble when we talk later. The host of BBC2's Lambing Live may look entirely at home cajoling newborn sheep into the world, but she too found the initial move to the country intimidating.
"We had four acres of land and we were terrified – it's like taking on this enormous legacy. You feel very responsible for it. Even though you ostensibly own it, you're a caretaker, and most of us are scared we'll screw it up somehow."
The following week, I return to take part in Oink Cluck Baaa!, as the introduction to smallholding course is called. (There's no Moo – keeping cows, the group agrees, equates to proper farming.) The goal here is to explore the realities of entering the countryside as something more than a part-timer.
By the time tutor Liz Shankland has dished the dirt on how alarmingly disease-ridden sheep are, the fact you can never have another holiday, and that you definitely shouldn't buy land expecting to make money, the class is a good deal more grounded. However, once we're out in the autumnal sun with the animals, all those concerns drop away and eyes glaze over at the thought of being able to gather honey, eggs and wool.
Much as on the charcuterie course, the attendees have assembled from various parts of England and Wales. When Shankland asks what has brought everyone here, it's clear they're a fairly serious bunch, with solid plans for the future. One couple have acquired 12 acres in Somerset; a woman is awaiting delivery of several sheep on her five-acre plot in Wiltshire; a rather stern-looking military man is looking for a plot to buy in south Wales.
It's hard not to feel a little embarrassed when they get to me (my "garden" is 16 concrete slabs just outside Bristol; landlord won't let me have even a goldfish), especially as I'd expected many more namby-pamby urban types on the course. Instead, when we go out to see the animals in situ, it's only me who tiptoes across the field, desperately trying to avoid sheep shit; no one else seems to find the thick, musty reek of the pigpen quite so repugnant either. I worry that I stand out as a phoney, but Humble assures me the majority of punters come simply for fun.
"At the moment, there's a real feeling of people just wanting to do something new, so we hope that's something we can provide," she says. "It may be that they never thought about having a smallholding before, but they have a day here and think: 'Actually, why the hell not? Why don't we completely change our way of living? We don't want to be city slickers any more, we want to wear our wellies and be covered in shit all day.'"
• Accommodation and courses at Humble by Nature, Upper Meend Farm, Penallt, Nr Monmouth (humblebynature.com) were provided by Sawday's. The next Oink Cluck Baaa! course (£95 including lunch) is on Saturday, 23 March 2013. The next Home Charcutier course is Inspired by Britain (9.30am-4.30pm, 6 April 2013, £95). Seven nights self-catering at the Piggery (sleeps four; collect your own breakfast eggs) costs from £400
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