History

We haven’t had any full-blown storms, just tree-friendly rain. Not bee-friendly, though, so Monica is fretting over a swarm she was given and is now huddled in her new National hive, in the shelter of the pigsty walls. Mowing that lawn is now Monica’s job! The rain is dragging on our enthusiasm to work outside, though, and mildly mocking our decision to live in the Pennines. Still, the time isn’t wasted and I’ve renovated the sharpening wheel and touched up all my outdoor edge tools.

The elm trough below the wheel has a loose metal base that used to be sealed with pitch. Rather than mess it up, I just added a few extra nails and lined it with Visqueen. The wheel bearings were fine for a drop of oil so it was quickly up and spinning. It’s an awkward job without a third hand so I’ll be make a foot-pedal for it soon but it grinds well. It’s a half-inch out of round, probably because of the way the handle makes the effort lopsided, but that’ll slowly come back to true. The surface is just right to remove lots of material with pressure but polish an edge to a shine with care. Following some aggressive filing, I even renovated two splitting wedges and a lovely old carving axe that emerged from the barn. They’ll be perfect for working the green beech and birch piled outside. One log will become my shaving horse, some I’ll try bowl-carving upon. The rest will be riven, planked, turned or chopped for firewood. I’ve just taken delivery of some proper greenwood tools, including a carving axe, a carpenter’s axe, a small adze, a drawknife and a carving chisel, so I can have some fun with those when Tony visits. 

I’ve been offered a huge oak trunk by one of Kevin’s mates. Too heavy for my truck to lift, it would have to be planked on site. I have no idea how much to offer for the thing. I guess I should go take a look at its quality first.

Treesponsibility are closing down planting for the season, soon, and are just popping in from time to time to tidy up. They have left a couple of hundred spare saplings, mainly ash, that I’d like to find a place for. Chris and I planted an avenue beside the new back track as a buffer, protecting the hazel from wayward timber. Ash is good to train, so I’m looking for sites and inspiration for arbors etc.

Most of the sheep are out, now. I collared the shepherd and his dog last week and they rounded up a dozen or so. I think the blighters were just discovering how to strip the protective tubes from the saplings. The success rate for the saplings must be above 95%; it’s wonderful to see the tubes filling with leaves and the first few peeping out of the tops.

Monica is in Tod, this afternoon, at her second bee-keeping course. This one is presented by a guy who doesn’t believe in conventional methods like smoke or feeding. Monica has other advisers but this guy is Incredible Edible’s friend.

My task for this arvo is to peen my scythe. A bit daunting but, as it’ll take about six passes the first time, I should have the muscle memory by the time it’s done. The grass around the farm is already knee-deep so I’d best get some mowing skills, quickly.

At the weekend, only Chris and I were game to work on the trees, mulching about 150 hazel. He was back again today with Anjum and friend. The four of us planted some spare ash to make an avenue along the back track.

Treesponsibility have finished planting for this season and are now desperately trying to finish the mulching (four newspapers and a sack). They’re back next Wednesday, hoping to finish off a thousand trees.

I’m awaiting a bunch of greenwood tools—barking knife, carving axe, adze etc—so that I can get on with processing a bit of timber I cut in February. Some cypress poles that I want to turn into a yurt or tipi; and some beech logs I’d like to turn into a shaving bench, mallets etc. I’m sure Vikki’s Sam would know how to do this but I’m still on training wheels.

I’ve booked onto a forest gardening course in July and an oak framing course later in the year. All new skills that I’ve been waiting to explore for ages. Monica is also on a learning curve: bee-keeping. She was late to the movies with Chris and Rushna yesterday because a swarm became available; now she’s fretting over its fate in her new hive.

We’re also looking at expanding the farm back to its original size by buying forty acres up the lane, including a caravan site, stables, a quarry (for Chirs to climb in!) and a mill race. Lots of new projects there, too.

I nearly lost all my bikes last week! We took off the far barn door to get a digger through, a month ago, and left it half open with new, boxed tools on view. Of course, with all the different folk we’ve had planting trees, someone talked to someone. The first I knew was finding a bike, still in its packing box, outside the barn. As usual, my brain tried to find a logical reason why it was there while I carried it back to join the others. You can imagine my horror at seeing all of the bike boxes, gone! Fortunately, all the boxed bikes were dumped in the field; even their Brooks saddles weren’t taken. Only the newest, the Surly Pugsley, was actually gone. Later, I found out that a dozen power tools were missing, too, all with “The Bike Works” and my Australian driving licence number engraved upon them plus an Aussie plug. Dumb steal. I’ve already replaced the 2nd-hand chainsaw with another from the same brilliant renovator; the bike order will go in soon. The other tools will be replaced as they’re needed. Not a bad outcome because everything that I value—hand-made tools and world-travelled bikes—were left alone. They didn’t recognise the big suitcase containing the all-carbon Specialized Roubaix, the most valuable and easiest to sell.

Was thinking of Kim yesterday and today as I’ve been emptying, cleaning and checking over The Pelican. She still has his hand-written label on her nameplate. The boat survived the export well and I’ve got someone lined up to mend the trailer which started to fail on the way to Adelaide. Soon, I’ll be looking for crew for its maiden voyages in the Lakes, the loughs and the lochs.

On Sunday, we’re having a family “beat-up” day. Not a therapy session but a day making sure the new trees are properly staked and mulched before we ignore them for the summer.

Warland Farm was split in two in the forties. The other half, the roughest half, is coming up for sale and we’re taking a look. We could invest our Australian super as long as we’re confident it will bring us a return in 10–15 years. Trees, grazing, hydro-power are all possibilities.

Monica’s finding the pressure of being near the family trying but is working out each relationship, slowly. For the last two days, she’s been trawling through her parents’ finances, at their request. Kevin is close by and we see him most weeks. Because he’s the other middle child, they have a lot in common and are working out their history together.

After the trees are happy, I’m moving on to gather folk who are interested in designing and planting up the forest garden around the farmhouse. We just saw the episode of Jamie Oliver At Home where I first saw his brick oven; that’ll be the next project.

So, lot’s of irons in the fire. In fact, I’m off to the Lake District to collect an anvil for the forge I’ll be re-instating in the workshop.

Opened up the boat today. When I collected it from the import depot in Manchester, it was standing in the rain and I had only enough time to throw its covers inside and tow it here. After that, it sat in more rain for a few weeks until some tarpaulins emerged from the packed stuff. I bailed it out a few times but I knew there’d be damp inside. For the last three months, I’ve put off looking at it closely, fearing a smelly, stained mess inside. But it wasn’t. Huzzah! Apart from three small areas, only one of which was inside the cabin, all was clean and dry. I got away with only a few spoiled hats and gloves. Another bit of good news, boat-wise, is that it fits in the garage so it and the shippen contents are safe at night. We met an under-employed boat-builder with a workshop on the canal who may be able to fix up the trailer. Slow steps to its re-launch. It’s been fun and rewarding to re-discover how well The Pelican is designed and built and to fish out all the bits and pieces that I’ve put on board make it as snug and interesting as it is functional.

The days have been gloriously sunny and we’ve spent most evenings out in the garden until sunset. Today, though, we put up a brolly, left by Karin and Ralph, over their garden table in the pig-sty. It’s a whimsical place and was a lovely spot for lunch and lounging about. Our Adelaide house delighted us because it had lots of nooks that lent themselves to sitting and chatting; the farm must have such places but its scale makes them hard to spot. We discussed ideas for putting the bread oven and associated shelter there. Still mulling. If we get away with a flue there, in the yard, maybe we can build that dragon pottery-kiln up the hill just outside.

The boat-builder has recommended a few timber and tool suppliers in Halifax, so I’m looking forward to a day out when the machinery is running and the projects start rolling. I found myself accidentally looking at a workbench on-line, while searching for hand tools, and Garlick’s, the saw-makers. Both places that would be worth a visit, too.

Monica has a woodwork project of her own: a 3D jigsaw of nicely machined cedar that will assemble into her first beehive. She also has the suit, gaiters and gauntlets and attended a swarming on Thursday. With real enthusiasm and careful consideration, she is developing her ideas about the kind of bee-keeper she wants to become.

We were invited by Pam Warhust of Incredible Edible Todmorden, just because we were in her café at the right moment, to take part in a strategy workshop to create a contribution to the town plan. Hah! We were each thrust forward to present the ideas of the groups we had joined. Between the two of us, we may have already made quite a mark on the future of the town. We gave them the linked concepts of turning a derelict site into a makers and growers enclave, connected by their green walk to an upgraded town square where locals and visitors can enjoy the produce, stamping a foodie and crafty identity on the town. The attending half-dozen town planners, whose job is to turn the ideas into a document, complimented us on our ideas and approach. A very satisfying day for us both because it feels like we’re being invited to become part of the town.

Next week, the Earthship team have a meeting to prepare for a preliminary meeting with Calderdale council, where I and two others will present the concept of the eco-house we’d like to build behind the barn. What we really need is a name for the project because it’s unlikely to end up as a text-book earthship. It may end up as a mountain-bikers hostel or a woodcraft school because the council want it to be something that needs to be in this location.

The year seems to be accelerating past as the summer’s activities come upon us. I’m hoping to spend a few weeks in the fields after the boat and bike re-assembly tasks are out of the way; then after a quick stab at some snag-list jobs, it’ll be time for the great giggle of hand-mowing the meadow.

We’ve had a couple of boosts this last week. First, we seem to have found enthusiastic allies for the forest garden project; the manager of an award-winning and royally-patronised permaculture project in Burnley (and his wife) are secret forest garden enthusiasts and want to get right into our project. Apparently, when they teach permaculture, there’s a special section emphasising the match between this region and forest gardens. He didn’t have time, at our first meeting, to say why. My task, now, is to produce some introductory material that can be used to explain the project and get these and others engaged.

The other news is that the Earthship is taking off. The project folk and their architect have decided we’re their best bet and so have arranged a presentation session to the local council for three of us. We may actually hit the deadline for a plan by June.

Tomorrow, Kevin and I are making new, temporary doors for the barn. The final, beautiful entrance is still way over the design horizon; I just want secure doors that can be opened to let machinery through. Hence, these will be three-quarter ply over a timber frame and, at 3.3 by 1.2 metres each, I’m glad of Kevin’s help in making and lifting them. Trying to think of a paint colour that’ll look good with the blackened stone of the barn’s exterior, maybe a smoke grey. I suggested to Monica that we get Gary to paint a trompe l’oeil as if they’re half-open with boxes of tools and a bicycle just inside. My ear still stings.

Herself has just returned from a visit to Todmorden Bee Club’s hives and a couple of hours of Breton dancing with Kevin. They both have stiff shoulders so they were competing to be at the end of the line. I had a lazy afternoon tidying the shed and getting a keg of beer brewing.

It’s odd not to have tree planters here at the weekends; it’s quiet without them. Only one more session from them, when they’ll be tidying up and mulching some that the kids missed. There are still a few dozen trees in the back alley that should be planted out or heeled in. I’d hate to see them die so, when the doors are done, I’ll swipe what’s left and plant them as boundary and buffer trees.

Did I mention that the grazier has tried to swipe Ralph’s (and thus our) rights to EC grants? We put in our claim and were told someone else had claimed them for years. We have Ralph’s affidavit that he did not gift or lease them with the grazing and, after giving the guy a fair chance to put things straight, have asked the Rural Payments Agency to investigate. You have to be on top of your game at this farming lark.

We had a normal weekend, Probably one of the first, here. Shopping in Tod, snoozing, walked to the pub along the canal, movie (Avengers at Rochdale), washed the car; the stuff normal people do, I believe. Oh, and we visited the grazier to tell him to get his nose out of our trough because he’s been claiming grants for Warland without Ralph’s permission.

Neither tools nor bike have shown up on eBay or Gumtree. I’ll keep an eye out but I’m about ready to write them off, being an impatient type. Treesponsibility reimbursed us for the fence, so we can afford to replace the tools as we need them.

We’ve been invited to take part in Incredible Edible’s planning day for Tod; walking around and having silly ideas in return for lunch. We met their head gardener in a café on Saturday, when he apologised for not visiting us yet because he’s been supervising day-release prisoners who’d skip off to get into trouble if he took time out to see us. 

If we had planted any forest garden plants, the sheep would have had them by now. There’s a mob in an un-fenced field at the top of the hill who wander down, looking for trouble. They’ve found a way to get to our grass and Monica is getting her exercise by shepherding them home. They don’t seem to be harming the trees so I’m cool about them; I’ll fix the fence before next lambing season.

I finally finished the initial work to close up the workshop but not before someone took advantage of our invitation to leap the half-open barn closure and take my bikes and power tools. At first, I was devastated about losing bikes that were hand-built, far-travelled and lovingly maintained; then I found them, still in their boxes, abandoned in the reeds. The thieves took my new Pugsley fat-tyred bike which was unlocked and ready to go plus power routers, sanders, nail gun, drills etc. In the wash-up, not too bad because all the tools can be replaced easily (at some expense, though) as can the bicycle, to which I was not yet attached. The funny side is that all the tools are engraved with my Australian licence number and have Australian plugs on them: very recognisable and not easy to fence. In addition to inviting the theft, I had also delayed the doors’ completion by taking a few days in London unsuccessfully trying to help Neil while his wife was overseas at a family crisis. Humph. I was looking forward to having un-borrowable tools because I had decided to leave the plugs on.

Monica’s grumbling about, behind me, because there’s no chocolate in the house! She’s been wrestling with the farm’s potential for grants; it’s very complicated so brain-food would help.

The swallows have already decided to live in the closable area of the Shippen, so I have to be careful not to lock them in. Not too many crapping on the machines, though they each produce a lot of poo.

While Neil and the kids were out at work and school, I mooched about North London looking for a decent Mediterranean food warehouse. There must be one but none of the Internet’s recommendations were worth the effort. I did enjoy a morning at the Borough Market on Thursday: scallops and raclette for second and third breakfasts; Parmesan, balsamic and jamon to fetch home from their producers; and a nice ham hock for a soup for dinner that evening. I’ll go there again because it’s a simple train journey between White Hart Lane and Liverpool Street stations.

We have a daily sweepstake on how many sheep and lambs will be in our front garden when we wake up. At first, we worried that they’d do some damage but Karin assured us that all the plants were selected for their toughness. Also, the servicing of the lawn mower got pushed back by the need for those doors so the help in trimming the grass has been welcome. They’ll be moved back up to the fells, soon, so I’d best get the machine working.

We’ve been invited, even though new here, to take part in strategic planning for Todmorden’s Incredible Edible future. We’ll be walking the streets in groups, pontificating, with subsequent workshopping.

The Pugsley has gone. They also took handfuls of power tools. As it happens, that bike and those tools are the easiest replaced and the least missed. I was devastated until I found five bike boxes hidden in the reeds behind the barn. All my favourites—hand built, far-travelled—were left behind. Similarly with the tools: the old wooden planes they left are much harder to substitute. The Surly is a thing of beauty and I’ll get another but I hadn’t really made any emotional connection with it yet.

Now, I’ve completed the work I was engaged in to make the workshop secure. As of tomorrow, a raid of that sort will be impossible. Just a few days grace and it would have been avoided. Last week, instead of completing the security doors, I travelled south to see if I could help Neil while Genave headed off to a family crisis the Philippines. An expensive way to show brotherly solidarity!

Kevin has been trying to help by specifying window-bars, shutters, alarms and such. I had to ask him to stop: winding Monica up further wasn’t helping and we don’t want to live in a prison.

Pity the poor thieves: the bike is so rare they’ll be spotted if they ride it; the tools are all engraved with my Australian licence number and have Australian plugs on them so, again, very easy to spot. All of them will be hard to fence.

The only lasting damage is the knowledge we now have, that someone has had a look around and may encourage others to have a go. We knew theft was more prevalent here than in Oz but were enjoying the delusion that Warland was off the beaten track. Hey ho.

When we show pictures of our life there, or when we hear from friends, Adelaide seems a long, long way from wet and windy Calderdale . There have been a few sunny days to show us the potential delights of summer at Warland Farm but April has been a step back towards Winter. As Ralph, the previous owner said yesterday, “This is the wettest drought on record”. Much of the South-East has a hose-pipe ban in place.

Please don’t get any impression that we’re at all unhappy, though. The Aga takes the edge off the coldest days and projects are proceeding despite the weather. I have been here less than six months (Monica less than four) but we have many thousands of trees planted and my woodwork shop is nearing completion; our families in nearby towns and cities are quite used to popping in at a moment’s notice; and the locals, a cheery lot, are happy to see us when we’re buying our food at the traditional markets.

Until well after Christmas, our furniture and my tools remained on the high seas, so we had a delightful period of irresponsibility and scruffiness. With just the clothes from our suitcases, a few sticks of furniture kindly left by Ralph and no telly, we managed to entertain the many friends and family who turned up in small and large groups from far and wide. The occasional quiet night was equally delightful, lounging in front of a blazing log fire listening to the quiet of the countryside.

The arrival of all our possessions was a major interruption from which we’re still tidying up but we can now accommodate up to six guests in comfort and I can find tools to start work to implement the ideas we’ve generated while under-employed. Alongside all of this, Treesponsibility have put up Warland Farm as the poster-project for their successful grant applications, the result being all those trees: some oak and birch in an attempt to replace an ancient woodland that went missing in the thirties but the majority in oak, ash and hazel coppices that will keep us warm and busy in years to come. Seven hundred metres of hedgerow, the two-acre forest garden to feed us and two meadows for the birds and wild-flowers are about to be started.

This weekend, Monica is in Liverpool learning how to keep bees; they’re probably the only livestock we’ll attempt to manage in the short term though Monica has an ambition to rescue a donkey once we’re settled. Bandit is very happy here, now she’s learnt not to get muddy (and hence cold) on our walks along the canal. She has a large yard with a couple of lawns to patrol and has even proven quite a good sheep-dog, unembarrassed by the titters of the spectators who think her a little small and rather too like a sheep herself. She just moves in on the strays with confidence and a cough to get them moving, sees them through the boundary fence and then returns to us. Who knew?

The local town has a good-sized health centre where Monica and I have been to sort out aches and pains and regular prescriptions and, apart from a rather zany booking system that no-one understands, we’ve had excellent, professional service, mainly from the nurse-practitioners who are the bulwark of the National Health System these days. As we get older and bugger up our joints with farm-work, it’s great to know we’re ten minutes from such help.

As we switch from set-up tasks to longer-term projects like the barn conversion, we’ve set cash budgets to keep everything on track (hoping that the AUS$ stays strong and keeps our pension fund buoyant) but time is not of the essence: if we miss the schedule it just means we spend a bit slower which is a good thing. Hence, we’re looking forward to a happy existence of honest work interrupted (as often as possible) by visiting guests and explorations to re-acquaint ourselves with this foreign land.

While returning from shepherding, last Sunday, Monica and I met Marie at the ramshackle stables up the road from here. Just by chance, we discovered that she and her husband own the thirty acres that were sold off from Warland Farm in the forties, and that they’re putting it up for auction in June. We believe it includes:

• Warland Water between the moor and the snake, including the mill race
• the quarry and the slope south of it
• twelve acres of fallow land
• twelve acres of over-grazed pasture
• a brown-field site with caravans upon it that should get permission for a dwelling or two
• the stables and sheds, though it’s unlikely they have planning permission
• lots of potential for wind, water and solar power generation
• lots of potential for firewood and timber growth

The problems with it are:

• it needs paths cut
• it needs fences to manage the pasture
• it may be too high for trees
• their idea for a hydro scheme didn’t work out
• the pasture needs time to recover before it can be grazed
• the stream may have Waterways covenants that prevent hydro schemes

Now, this is a challenge because we could afford to put the farm back together but it would take time, strength, cash and patience away from the portfolio of projects that we have already mapped out and budgeted for. We have to consider whether we can and should invest in the land in order to make a real return. Our superannuation scheme could purchase it from us but only when an income is certain; we don’t want an illiquid asset when we need cash in our old age.

We’re trying to be objective and have asked Matt Taylor, a forester, to assess the timber potential and Monica will engage an agent to value the land.