But what would they actually do?
When I started talking about opening up the farm to visitors, this was the commonest reponse from friends and family, which only served to add another furrow in my brow - yes, I would muse, what will they actually do?
But soon I would come back to my senses and start to remember the rich opportunities for learning and for wellbeing that the farm would offer. I would picture my visitors arriving, cocooned in the air conditioned world of their coaches and minbuses. They would disembark in the yard, pull on their wellies, splosh through the footbath and then........
They might meet the sheep and find out that their wool is wonderfully soft but their hooves are painfully sharp when you allow the greedy ones to stand up at you.
They might meet the chickens and learn about the intricate ways in which we try to protect them from the foxes and that the economics of that means that we are currently operating at about £15 per egg.
They might meet the Guinea fowl and see, close up, how delicate and detailed their markings are and then hear, close up, how deafening and raucous their call is.
They might meet the semi-feral ponies, listen to the pragmatic co-grazing story......
...........and then see straight through to the sentiment-driven truth of the rescue ponies' arrival.
They might look at all the flowers, butterflies and birds in the hedgerows and understand more about the reasons behind our unkempt winter hedges.
They might brush against the sweet vernal grass in the meadow and discover the smell of hay even before it is cut.
They might spot the wildflowers in the grasses and wonder whether these are unnoticed weeds or welcome inhabitants.
They might try to catch a glimpse of a kingfisher in the stream.
They might look across to Alfred's Tower and wonder about its history.
Or they might just appreciate the opportunity to step out of the slipstream of every day life for an hour or so and to just enjoy being in the soft, green space of a Somerset farm.