November 25, 2025 – In the rolling hills of East Sussex, where the South Downs meet the sky like a slow, endless guitar solo, David Gilmour has quietly begun the most meaningful riff of his life. The Pink Floyd legend, 79, has inherited a sprawling 380-acre countryside estate valued at £31 million ($39 million) from his late cousin, Margaret “Peggy” Astell-Burt, who passed away in March at age 92. The property — a Grade II-listed manor house with 14 bedrooms, walled gardens, ancient oaks, and a private lake — could have become another billionaire’s playground. Instead, Gilmour and his wife, novelist and lyricist Polly Samson, have announced they are converting the entire estate into “The Freedom Farm”: a free, self-sustaining sanctuary for military veterans battling PTSD, single parents escaping domestic abuse, and families facing homelessness or medical hardship.

“The people who raised me always taught me that true wealth isn’t about what you keep, but what you share with the world,” Gilmour said in a handwritten statement released this morning. “Peggy lived simply, loved deeply, and left behind more than bricks and mortar — she left a chance to do something real. This land will never be a private palace. It will be a place where people who’ve carried the heaviest loads can finally put them down.”

The estate, known locally as Hooke Farm since the 17th century, had been in the Astell-Burt family for four generations. Peggy, a lifelong philanthropist who quietly funded children’s hospices and animal rescues, had no direct heirs. In her will — read last month in a small Chichester solicitor’s office — she named Gilmour, her closest living relative, sole beneficiary, with one handwritten codicil: “Use it to help others breathe easier.”

Gilmour and Samson didn’t hesitate.

Within weeks, architects, trauma specialists, and veteran charities were invited to the property. Plans are already underway:

• 28 fully accessible cottages built from reclaimed Sussex barn timber, each with private gardens and soundproofed music rooms (because, Gilmour insists, “music heals what words can’t reach”).

  

• A state-of-the-art therapy centre with equine and canine programmes, art studios, and a recording studio where residents can lay down tracks with Gilmour himself on weekends.
• Organic farm-to-table plots run by residents, plus orchards and beehives — a nod to Gilmour’s lifelong environmentalism and his 2022 climate anthem “Yes, I Have Ghosts.”
• A 60-seat amphitheatre carved into the hillside for open-air concerts, with all proceeds funding the farm in perpetuity.
• A “quiet wing” specifically for single mothers and their children fleeing abuse, complete with on-site legal aid and childcare.

The Freedom Farm will open its gates in phases beginning spring 2027, with the first 12 families already selected from waiting lists provided by Help for Heroes, Refuge, and the Royal British Legion. There will be no fees, no time limits, and no cameras. Residents can stay “as long as the healing takes,” Samson told The Times.

Funding? Gilmour is personally covering the £18 million conversion costs from his own savings and future tour royalties, while establishing an endowment seeded with £10 million. He has also pledged 25% of all income from his 2024 album Luck and Strange and its ongoing tour to the farm’s operating budget. “I’ve had more than enough,” he said simply. “This feels right.”

The announcement has sent ripples far beyond Sussex. Veterans’ groups are calling it “the most significant private act of support for ex-service personnel since the war.” Women’s Aid hailed the domestic-violence wing as “life-saving.” Even the usually reserved Ministry of Defence issued a rare statement praising Gilmour’s “extraordinary generosity.”

On X, the reaction was immediate and overwhelming. #FreedomFarm trended worldwide within hours, with former soldiers posting tearful videos: “David Gilmour just gave us something the military never could — a safe place to land.” A single mum from Manchester wrote, “I’ve been sofa-surfing with my two kids for 14 months. This feels like a miracle.” Roger Waters, despite their decades-long estrangement, posted a single line: “Good on you, Dave.”

Gilmour, ever understated, was photographed yesterday walking the estate’s perimeter with Polly and their 21-year-old daughter Romany, pointing out where the wildflower meadows will go. When a reporter shouted, “Why now?” he paused, looked toward the horizon, and answered in that familiar, weathered baritone:

“Because I’m 79. Because I’ve spent a lifetime bending notes until they cry. And because some people never get to hear music again after what they’ve been through. If this land can give them back even one quiet sunrise… then every solo I ever played was worth it.”

As dusk settled over the Downs last night, workers began planting the first of 10,000 native trees. Somewhere in the distance, a lone Stratocaster — left plugged in on the manor’s terrace — caught the wind and let out a single, shimmering harmonic that drifted across the valley like a promise.

The outlaw isn’t riding away.
He’s opening the gates.