Time to move on

It's been a busy and eventful summer. Gwalia Stores, our quirky holiday let, finally came to fruition, while the market garden sprung into life. I handed in my notice at work, albeit somewhat prematurely, but also took on a part time job as the town maintenance man! However, amongst the chaos, we did manage to get way to the coast, which reminded me of the beauty and awe of the sea, and also its proximity to us. In terms of the plans on the farm, I am excited to be joined by my nephew Charlie, who is keen to become my partner in crime and commit his enthusiasm, skills and personality to the project. We are now set for a nail biting 2022 when it becomes, quite simply, a case of make or break.

Where do I start? Perhaps with Gwalia, which has finally become a functioning and earning holiday let after over two years of painful renovation. I listed it on Airbnb in July, before it was actually ready, and used some clever photography to hide the array of snagging jobs. The strategy was to start taking bookings for August, giving us a definitive target and a hair raising 4 weeks to get all the finishing bits and bobs done. As ever, this was a ridiculous expectation, that would stretch the capabilities of the most enthusiastic daytime TV renovation teams. Fortunately, and with a bit of help, we just about managed to get the place over the finish line before the first guests arrived - although the paint had barely dried. It's not perfect, but overall, I'm pleased with the result. I’m also satisfied with the first reviews that have rolled in, and its surreal to think people are stopping in the place and having joyous and memorable experiences. I always struggle to feel proud of anything that I have done, but a sense of pride did momentarily pass over me as I surveyed the finished product, all made up for the first guests.

Meanwhile, the fruits we planted in the market garden in spring have sprung into life, demanding regular maintenance and attention. The unrelenting grass growth, the unforgiving weeds and the unruly sheep have all combined to give me a bit of a headache. The sheep in particular have tested my nerve as they continuously conspire to break into the fruit enclosures and chomp on my profits. Despite all my efforts to shore the fences up, I still keep finding one of the blighters innocently chewing on my raspberries, oblivious to the monumental implications. It baffles me, as there is no sign of a break in, and the tall fences would challenge a kangaroo. Perhaps this unassuming sheep is the one that got left behind after an elaborate and sophisticated night time raid? Maybe a night cam would pick up an action packed and highly coordinated operation involving zip wires and parachutes? Aside from the sheep issues, and the immensity of the wider management tasks, all has gone reasonably well on the farm, all things considered. Its early days, but the systems seem to be working, and the place is really starting to look like a functioning market garden.

Despite the dizzying melee of holiday lets, rogue sheep, family commitments, house renovations, day jobs and market gardens, I still managed to get drawn in by a job advert for a “street sweeper” in the local town. At just 10 hours a week on a self-employed basis and £10 an hour, I wondered if this could provide a useful and reliable long term background income, and perhaps even enable me to finally throw the towel in as a social worker. It's been becoming increasingly apparent that I desperately need to cut loose and clarify my focus and direction, and break free from the thick treacle I feel like I'm aimlessly wading through. As I am now friendly with the town mayor, I was able to delve a bit deeper about the position, and ascertain that they were struggling to recruit. The conversation seemed to indicate that the precise job specification was somewhat vague, open to interpretation, and waiting for the right person to put their stamp on it...could this be me? The thought of wondering quaint streets in a small town, painting railings, picking up dog shit, sweeping up leaves...or whatever, probably won't appeal to many; but to me, it seems like a liberating and progressive jump from the pressures of social work. No emails, no meetings, no manager, no trauma, no meetings about meetings, no emails about meetings about meetings. This is, of course, a rose-tinted and naive outlook, and the pay is crap. But its an opportunity down the road, without a rigid schedule, and I don't want to miss it. It's going to be increasingly important that I can manage my work around other commitments, without constantly trying to pull a rabbit out a hat and be in two places at the same time. Besides, a successful holiday let needs a nice location, so this vested interest is a factor! So, I sent my CV in for consideration at the town council meeting, and the baffled councillors offered me the job. The following week I handed my notice in after 12 eventful years in social work. Its tight, its risky, its a bit bonkers, but its feasible, and there is never a right time to do anything........ sometimes the time comes when you just have to move on.

As part of this refocusing of attention and direction, I have also recruited a comrade in the market garden vision. I have realised this is a process that needs at least two people, and I am incredibly lucky that my nephew Charlie, who is in his early 20’s, has taken an interest in the venture. He’s young, healthy, driven and skilled as well as having a genuine interest and passion for rural businesses - so has all the right attributes. Having worked with his dad in the building trade, he’s no stranger to physical graft and the vagaries of the elements, and is not the sort to complain about getting soil on his Nike trainers. Moreover, I sense a genuine connection, and feel there is a good chance we can form an effective partnership where, to quote Aristotle, “the whole becomes greater than the sum of its parts”. I have warned him that I'm a complete twat and a nightmare to work with, so that conversations over, and I've also been upfront about expectations, which need to be managed. For him, he has a great opportunity, and I think he can see this. He’s from a generation that’s increasingly grappling with the falsities of social media and the dominance of technology, and is joining a growing movement of people reacting to the direction humanity is heading, by looking for a more connected and simpler lifestyles - but doing so in way that’s entrepreneurial, exciting and cutting edge. Helping to build a dynamic, sustainable and contemporary rural business is appealing to him, and why would it not be.

We did manage a brief interlude from the chaos, and enjoyed a lovely camping trip to Clarach Bay on the Welsh coast. With the pandemic easing, it was a good time to shake off the hermit like habits we seem to have acquired, and with the journey taking just over an hour, it made me realise how close we lived to the magic and drama of the ocean. After hours wrestling with our humongous tent in gale force conditions, I finally managed to get the thing up - although it looked more like someone had crash-landed in a parachute then erected a tent. Despite picking the coldest and windiest week of the summer so far...or perhaps even in history, we still thoroughly enjoyed the scenery and the refreshing coastal walks.

So, as summer draws to a close, and the fresh invigorating atmosphere of autumn starts to cast its spell there's plenty to think about, and even more to do.