Hot to Trot - Tosca Farm

Hot to TrotTrading city careers for pitchforks and starting a thoroughbred farm in South Australiaproved a winning decision for this family.For more than 30 years, John Mann dreamed of another life. To the outside world heseemed content with his day job as a Sydney accountant. But in private his thoughtsturned to bloodlines, training, track conditions, wins and losses. At some point, John wasdetermined, he would spend his days in the company of racehorses.Nothing in his background gave a clue to this ambition. But although John wasn’t boughtup in the country or even in this country, his love for thoroughbreds began back in histeens.“Back then, in England, horse-racing carnivals moved around the country and would cometo your area for about a week,” he says. “I loved the colour, I loved the excitement. Inwinter, flat racing closes down and then they’d have a lot of jumping races – hurdles andsteeplechases. I found them really exciting.”Arriving in Australia as a 24-year-old, John found an egalitarian racing industry thatwelcomed participants from all walks of life. He bought a share in a horse that he soonowned outright – and discovered he’d joined a natural growth industry.“The thing with breeding horses is that over time the numbers just gradually grow,” Johnsays. “They have a foal a year; sometimes you sell them and sometimes you don’t. That’show I did it until we got here.”‘Here’ refers to Tosca Farm, 48 hectares near Keyneton in South Australia’s beautifulBarossa Valley; and ‘we’ refers to John’s wife, Suzanne, and their two young children,Jack and Grace.The family moved to South Australia from Sydney in late 2004. They quit the metropolisnot because they yearned for expansive skies, fresh air, or a slower pace (although allthese aspects of country life are now treasured) but because John wanted to get his handsdirty.“I’m it,” says Tosca Farm’s stablehand and managing director, with a broad grin. However,the transition wasn’t instantaneous, being effected over some five years. During thatperiod a promotion offer for Suzanne, a project manager with St. George Bank, helped tofocus the couple’s thinking. For Suzanne to stay and take the new position would addseveral more commuting hours to the day: “It made the decision – to stop work andsupport Jack when he started school – a lot easier,” she says.Ending that career also proved to be a blessing in disguise when it came time to farewellthe city.“Probably the most stressful thing about leaving Sydney was saying goodbye,” Suzannesays. “But luckily I wasn’t working by then – that would have been very hard, to leaveSydney life and work.”

Each step of the move was made deliberately, with careful planning. John had started towind back his accounting commitments while they were still settling on a location. SouthAustralia looked more and more promising as they realized that they could get a find sitefor the horses and still be within two hours of a capital city – a priority on their wish list.Once Tosca Farm was selected, the most crucial tasks were redesigning the paddocklayout, erecting new fences, and building stables in preparation for the horses’ arrival, ahuge undertaking aided by a local builder, Harry Makris.Harry’s work can also be seen at the back of the house. The new stable built in what usedto be the shearing shed, is a work of art. The timber flooring, worn and polished bydecades of use, was taken up and used to line the walls; three stalls and gates were built,and a new door, large enough for horses, was constructed.Neither John or Suzanne had ever lived in the country and every day they came acrosssomething new. But they soon realized they’d traded a life dictated by the clock for one runby the weather. A sunny day will see John out in the paddocks; rain means office work.“I understand why farmers go on about the weather,” says John. ‘They’re right. There’seither too much, or not enough – or it comes at the wrong time.”Despite such concerns, the Manns’ overall feeling is relaxed: “You can drop things to dosomething else,” says John.Back in Sydney, Suzanne had not known there were other children living in their streetuntil Jack started school; now she knows most of the kids in the district. For her, gettingused to living in a smaller community has probably been the biggest difference betweencity and country.“People want to give you help and advice, pop over and do things for you without any realreward other than just sharing their knowledge and their time and getting to know you,”she says.Country life has bought challenges. New weather patterns took some getting used to: “Thewinds are so fearsome,” Suzanne says. “There’s sand storms…and sometimes the housemakes so much noise that John still gets up in the night to check it.”Then there’s the rural wildlife. The couple signed up for a snake identification course, andhave cleared all around the house to keep their minds at ease. But for some visitorsthere’s no manual: Suzanne had to work out by trial and error how to discourage “5000swallows” from nesting under the eaves of the verandah. And John, though immenselysatisfied with the transition from dreaming of a new life to living his dream, admits thatsome lessons had to be learned the hard way.“I’m fairly comfortable around horses, but I’ve been hear-butted once and that hurt, hesays. “Horses have got hard heads. I had my head in the feed bucket, next thing the horselifted his. I almost saw stars. I won’t be doing that again!”Words by Barbara SweeneyAustralian Country Style, September 2006