One tap, a date, and somebody else’s problem for eleven months.
Gift an adoption, a box, a patch, a cask or a membership. You choose the thing and the date; they choose the details, which is the part that stops a present being a burden.
How it actually goes.
You pick the thing and pay for it
A box, a patch, a foster, a cask or a membership. Or a hamper you built, which is its own page.
You choose when the card arrives
Now, or on a morning you name. Or printed and posted, which costs four pounds and is worth it for somebody older.
They claim it
One link, one email address. No account needed until this point and no card details ever.
They pick the details
Which crop, which animal, which box, which tier. This is the part that matters and it is the part most gift flows skip.
They tell us where it goes
Which means you never have to know their address, which solves the single most common reason a present does not get bought.
And then it just happens
For a month, or a year, or eleven months, or until 2038 in the case of a cask.
What each one is like to receive.
| Gift | On the day | Afterwards | The risk |
|---|---|---|---|
| A box subscription | A card and a date | A box a month, and a skip button | They do not cook |
| A patch | A card with a field reference | Eleven months of photographs, then produce | Twenty-five kilos of flour in a flat |
| A fostered ewe | A name and a photograph | Lambing, shearing, and the wool | It is a real animal and things happen |
| A cask | A number and a fill date | One note a year, then bottles in 2038 | They are eighty-four |
| A membership | Access, immediately | The whole estate at their tier | They never use it |
| A hamper | A box of things | Nothing further | Nothing much. It is the safe one |
Why the recipient chooses the details.
The obvious way to build gifting is to let the buyer configure everything: pick the crop, pick the animal, pick the box, and hand over a finished thing. It demonstrates thoughtfulness and it is what most people expect.
It is also how you end up giving a vegetarian a pork box. The buyer knows roughly what the recipient is like; the recipient knows exactly, and the difference between those two is where presents go wrong.
So the buyer chooses the category and the money, and the recipient chooses within it. It costs a little of the surprise and it removes almost all of the risk, and the number of gifted patches that have been quietly abandoned since we changed this is zero.
What you get
- Any of the five, gifted in one flow
- A card, digital or printed and posted
- A delivery date you choose, up to a year out
- The recipient choosing crop, animal, box or tier
- No price anywhere on anything they see
- Thirty days for them to return it, without involving you
What you very much do not
- A gift wrap charge
- A gift card fee, printed or otherwise, beyond the £4 postage
- Any requirement for you to know their address
- Any age-restricted item reaching somebody who has not been carded
- Automatic renewal at the end of a gifted subscription
A gifted subscription does not renew itself.
Three months gifted is three months. At the end of it the box stops, the recipient gets one email saying so, and nothing is charged to anybody. If they want to carry on they can start it themselves, and about a third do — which is a better number than we would get by quietly rolling them onto a card that is not theirs.
Lobbing one over, questioned.
We remind them at seven days and at thirty. After ninety days it converts to a gift card in their name, valid for two years, and we tell you that it has.
A box, a foster or a patch, yes, with an adult’s address on it. Nothing alcoholic, ever, under any circumstances.
Two hundred characters, printed on the card. We do not read them and we do not moderate them, which has been fine so far.
A patch or a cask, yes — the whole holding transfers, with its record. A box subscription, no; start them a new one.
Or hand the decision back to them.
An IOU with a farm on it, which is the honest name for a gift card.
