He bought Lyndhurst as a derelict piece of land in 1987 after Mugabe's Agriculture Department declared that it had no interest in acquiring the property for resettlement.

At one time the farm had 80ha of maize and 60ha of tobacco and peanuts. It produced 500 top-class beef cattle each year and provided a living for 300 people - permanent and casual workers and their families.

This winter, after patchy but tolerable rainfall, less than one hectare is planted. That is tilled by ox-drawn ploughs, while tractors lie disabled in the forlorn complex of barns where tobacco used to be cured.

The main "settler" on Worsley-Worswick's farm is Biggie Matare. He was one of 35 peasants allocated plots, although only four remain. The farm school has been taken over by the government and fees are unaffordable; the clinic has collapsed. Worsley-Worswick is still paying 20 families a small sum to ensure their survival.

Worsley-Worswick found Matare and served court papers ordering him to get out of the homestead. It was all smiles.

"We are friends now," said Matare, who then asked for a "deal" so he could stay legally on the land.

"Contact my lawyer," Worsley-Worswick replied tartly, but shook his adversary's hand nonetheless.

We stopped to give the former farm workers a rare commodity, maize seed. "They will plant this afternoon, in time to catch the end of the season," Worsley-Worswick said.

Nearby stands the farmhouse, still strewn with family possessions. There are books packed in boxes, but the furniture is still in place. Looking around, it is possible to see new leaks in the roof, sagging ceilings, and curtains drawn across windows of children's bedrooms.

Worsley-Worswick longs to return. "It's too late this season," he said sadly. "Maybe next year will be better, and we can come home."