Open All Hours

On March 30^th, The Forge officially opened its doors for business and what had been our dream for over 10 years finally became a reality. You’d think that preparing for such a momentous occasion would be a time of sheer unbridled joy. Errr. Not quite. As we limped over the line somewhere in the wee hours of the 29^th March, broken, exhausted and barely able to speak, we questioned whether this was the dream we had signed up for. 

All dressed up and ready to go... we, on the other hand, don't look quite so tidy anymore!

After all, hadn’t we “left behind our stressful commuter lives” (according to our glossy marketing literature) when we moved here? I can honestly say, hand on heart, that the past couple of months have been way more stressful than any project go live I went through in my consulting days. 2am finishes? Check. 4.30am starts? Check. Heart palpitations? Check. Insomnia? Check. Immune system shot to shit? Check. Not to mention not seeing the kids for days on end, never sitting down to eat and constantly scanning pages and pages of To Do lists, all dog-eared and wrinkled being dropped over and over in the snow and the mud.

Nor did I expect my hard-earned life savings from the past 20 years to be frittered away in the space of a month, swiftly turned into about a million Amazon Prime boxes and eye-wateringly enormous invoices from the builders’ merchants.

"This time next year, Rodney, we will be millionaires". Perhaps not.

Less still did I realise I was signing up to become a chambermaid-slash-toilet cleaner. As I tucked in the last sheets and duvet covers on the 17^th bed at around 5am one morning, in the dark, barely able to feel my fingers in a -5c hard frost, I have to confess to questioning my life choices. Even more so when the 17 guests departed, and I was left with the unenviable task of cleaning the composting toilets, obviously without running water (“the blissful off-grid retreat”, so says the website. Hmm).

Mine all mine. Err, not anymore...

And it was only as we watched the first guests tottering through the foot-deep mud in their shiny white trainers with their sparkly pink wheelie suitcases that it suddenly dawned on us that we are now going to have to actually share our place and all of our hard work with complete strangers. And not only share it but be at their beck and call at all hours of the day and night, ensuring they have everything they need, popping out for soya milk, fetching more firelighters, finding spare poo bags for their dog, the list goes on. In fact, it has been so cold in our opening week that I keep waking up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, fretting that our guests are not warm enough and that I should take them more blankets. Will our lives ever be our own again??? – no weekends, no evenings, no summer holidays. Suddenly the corporate 9-5 doesn’t seem so bad…

A misnomer. Will our lives ever be free again?!

But then we got our first guest review….

And nothing in this world can compare to the euphoria of hearing that someone has described their experience as “absolutely faultless” and that all your hard work and visioning and late-night conversations have actually translated into something that people LOVE. People actually get it! Our concept works and we now have several 5 star (and only 5 star – c’mon people, we’ve just opened a business, this is no time for humility!) to prove it. Some relief I can tell you, although it also heaps on the pressure to keep them that way!

"Absolutely faultless", apparently :-)

Not to mention the buzz we are getting from meeting so many new people from all walks of life and diverse backgrounds. Just when we were in grave danger of becoming reclusive hermits, we suddenly have lots of lovely new human interaction and it feels wonderful! Not only does it assure us that we are not completely off our heads to embark on a project like this (people have been incredibly passionate and enthusiastic about our plans) but we now find ourselves with a replenished bank of new stories and witty anecdotes from our interactions with our guests. We now actually have lots to talk about (and apologies to any friends out there reading this a) for being as dull as ditch water for the past three years and b) for now droning on incessantly about all our new guest experiences).

Best of all though has to be the fact that we get to see the place afresh again with every new person that comes up the drive. Yes, it is a lovely view (how did I forget that?). Yes, it is so green and fresh (guess I just take that for granted now). And yes, you do feel like you are miles away from anywhere (yup, ‘tis true). Seeing the impact that the place has on people and the difference between how they feel when they arrive and when they leave is something I don’t think I will ever tire of.  Sure, there will be guests that don’t love it and there will be days when the cleaning and changing sheets gets a bit tedious but this is our business. We get to make all the decisions and set the direction. We are answerable to no one but ourselves and the buck will always stop with us. It is both terrifying and thrilling in equal measure. And do you know what? I think I could get used to it… 

Nice to be reminded that the view is not too shabby...

https://theforgecorwen.co.uk

Rise and fall

Pride before a fall and all that. After all the highs and good news of last week if feels like the universe has just flicked a massive two fingers up at us and said, "just hang on one cotton-pickin' little moment there, that all sounded just a little too good to be true….."

Just as we were patting ourselves heartily on the back and congratulating ourselves on our great progress, BAM! The internet goes off. Just like that. From 85mbps to a big fat ZERO. After years of an at best dismal broadband service, it turns out we were gorging on data like a family of starved hyenas that have just wandered across a sleeping zebra. We had somehow used up our monthly allowance of data in less than a week. Oops. You'd think a simple phone call to buy more data would have sorted the issue but no, it required about a hundred phone calls to get us back online. Frazzled, cross and close to yet another nervous breakdown.

Then POW! The gas goes off. Right at the exact moment that we have a group of esteemed guests assembled to watch the flipping extravaganza. So, we then dabbled with physics, attempting to cook our batter any which way possible (microwave, oven, wood burner…). Needless to say, none produced anything remotely pancake-like and we ruined a fair bit of kitchenware while were at it. Thankfully we managed to find a gas canister and hob in one of the barns to save the day. The even worse news was that the gas also powers our central heating so we've had to lug on average 10 baskets of logs back and forth to the house to keep the house roughly above freezing until the sodding gas company arrive to refill our tank. They assured us on Tuesday (and every day since), in classic North Wales fashion that, "we'll definitely be there tomorrow". Still no sign of them….  This wouldn't have been so bad except that….

Can you cook pancakes on this thing?!

BOOM! We all came down with the flu. Huddled together like penguins round the fire to keep warm we've snuffled and coughed our way to the end of the week, all four of us sharing a bed at night to ward off the cold from the ice crystals forming on the insides of the windows.

Then KAPOW! The final slap to the chops was the phone call from the water board to tell us that we have an "astronomically high" water bill. Like more than ten times higher than expected. Shiiiiit. It turns out we have a suspected water leak somewhere on our land. Our account has been frozen (yes, yes, very drole given current battle for heat) until we find said leak. Trouble is we are all too poleaxed with the flu and the freezing cold to do anything about it…. That or we’re too busy dealing with….

SPLAT! Just when we thought we had nailed the potty training with our youngest daughter and were smugly telling everyone what a piece of piss it was (no pun intended) second time around – we’ve had some catastrophic toileting disasters. Exactly what I needed in my freezing cold, wife-free home this week, NOT!

Whole of the Deer course in full swing

BUT it is not all bad. This week has definitely started to feel like spring with the birds singing and the sun shining. We've managed to plant our tomato, cucumber and pepper seeds and we've thrown a few peas into the polytunnel to chance our arm on an early spring crop. We’ve also run our first two bushcraft courses of the year: a full day with a group of seven young people from the Centre of Sign-Sight-Sound in Colwyn Bay and a Whole of The Deer course for three clients up from London. 1800 trees have arrived and are being planted to create our new woodland. Plus, we've also FINALLY managed to finish our new websites. You can check out the Wild Bushcraft Company here and The Forge site is here. This means we are now open for bookings from Easter - woo hoo! Please do spread the good word and, after the week we’ve just had, help put the smile back on our faces!

Planting up 1800 trees to create our new woodland

Tales of the Unexpected

Another week, another series of weird coincidences and seemingly unbelievable developments that make me wonder whether I am actually living in some rural Matrix.

Thing one, road contractor arrives along with a whole host of seriously enormous diggers and machinery ready to start work on our new Forge superhighway. Turns out it’s the same guy I got my first pet lamb from about 30 years ago. I know North Wales is a small place and all but what are the chances?!  Perhaps less unexpected is the classic Welsh weather which delayed us by two weeks and has now rendered the whole place a complete mudfest. 

The Forge new superhighway

Thing two, car won’t start. Not a flat battery. Not a dodgy spark plug. Nada, no life. Call out the RAC man to be told, and I shit you not, that a mouse has nibbled through the fuel pipe. Now you know you’ve got to take your rodent problem in hand when they are chowing down on the bloody vehicles! The perfect excuse for yet more smallholding gadgetery, this time in the form of a chicken powered hen feeder, that only works when the chooks stand on the platform to open the trough. Genius. 

Open sesame!

Thing three, just when I am close to a nervous breakdown with the shockingly unreliable broadband service from a well-known telecoms provider (not to mention any names, BT YOU BUNCH OF FECKLESS HALF-WIT IDIOTS) it turns out EE have launched a new service which means you can get superfast internet connection through your 4G signal. So, I’ve gone from a crushing depression when it turned out that BT had happily sold us fibre broadband and charged us handsomely for the privilege when NO SUCH THING EXISTED IN OUR AREA and I obsessively monitored the download speed of between 0.2 and 3mb per second (trust me, when your life depends on the internet you become ultra-obsessive about these things) to a guaranteed 30+mbps for ever more. I am still weeping with joy. 

Thing four, more good news. If it was not the broadband that was slowly breaking me one day at a time then the motorbikes and boy racers passing the house at the speed of sound were a close second. So, I practically grabbed the lovely gentleman from the Highways Agency by the cheeks and planted a big smacker on his lips when he turned up at the door this week to tell us that they are putting in place average speed cameras on our road. Ha! Take that you Valentino Rossi wannabes!

And finally, yet more good news. Our planning application for more bell tents and our Canadian style trappers’ huts has been granted! With unbelievable ease and lack of hassle. We can barely believe it and keep double checking the paper work for the catch. But no. It seems we are good to go. So it’s full steam ahead for Phase 2 of The Forge. Just the tiny detail of getting Phase 1 completed first. But hey it’s valid until 2023 so we have a little time. 

So seems like we are on the up and up. For now at least. Until they change that matrix code...

Rural life hacks

So here we are. A week into the New Year, time of resolutions and making changes and starting afresh and all that. Personally, with two small kids, a ruck of animals and vegetables to look after not to mention a job and a major project in the offing I can’t be bothered with all that bollocks anymore. No. Quite frankly now I’ve hit forty I’m more concerned about making life easier for myself rather than imposing any more constraints that make it even harder. Which is why I have come up with these five rural life hacks. All intended to streamline our lives and make us happier and just a little less knackered in 2018.

1.        The Phantom Pig Diet

We really do miss our pigs dearly. Not in any kind of sentimental, emotional type of a way. No, more in the ‘Jasysus – do we really produce this much food waste every day?!’ kind of a way. Since we ate Chanel and Gucci and no longer have our porcine waste disposal units we’ve become acutely aware of what we now have to throw away. And the bloody dog is no use. Despite being half Labrador, he is the pickiest canine known to Man. He will very delicately nose his way around any rogue pieces of pasta or potatoes in his bowl to nibble his dog kibble, leaving anything else to one side. Which is why we have now given up cooking for ourselves and instead wait and watch the kids eat, salivating like a pair of famished wolves, before pouncing and gobbling up all their leftovers. It’s a win-win-win: save time and effort, reduce waste, lose weight (especially when they don’t leave anything at all).

2.       Sunshine therapy

Who needs a membership to the local health spa or a holiday to some winter sun destination when you have a polytunnel?! When the sun comes out you can bask in there to your heart’s content, safe in the knowledge that with the doors shut, and a few choice digging tools made available, the kids are going nowhere so you can relaaaax. Hell, sometimes it gets so warm in there you can even take your woolly hat off! Vit D for free. Nice.

Who needs a sauna?

 3.       Fire cleansing

Nothing like a massive burn up to start the year. All the leftover boxes and wrapping paper and broken deckchairs and old toys and feed bags and…... the list goes on. You just hurl it all on and watch it all go up in smoke in a matter of minutes. No lugging stuff to the tip, or faffing about with eBay or onerous trips to the Post Office. I can’t tell you how cathartic and cleansing it feels. And just for good measure I throw a token bit of sage on at the end. To ward off the bad spirits and all that…

4.       Tree recycling

It may be a sign of how bloody freezing our house is but the two real Christmas trees we had this year barely shed a needle despite being up for over a month. Tim, the wise old woodman who gave them to us as a gesture for spending so much money with him this year on wood for the bell tent platforms (eeek), assures us that we can get at least two years’ worth out of these trees. Despite having been cut and not in soil or anything, apparently if you stick them back in the ground they will last. Cue a new reverse Christmas tradition. Taking the trees back to the woods and wishing them a nice year until we bring them back into the house. And hopefully saving myself a whole heap of hassle come next December.

The new reverse-Christmas ritual

5.       Friendships

It is so important to nurture your friendships and spend time with those nearest and dearest to you. Which is why we are enthusiastically inviting everyone we know to come and spend a ‘relaxing break’ in North Wales where they have the 'wonderful opportunity to make their mark on our great project'. In other words, they are handed a drill, some decking screws and a large saw and are roped into helping set up our bell tent platforms in a sort of ‘slave labour in return for food and a lot of drink’ arrangement. It’s working a treat, as it means we still have some semblance of a social life whilst not feeling overly stressed and guilty about not working every hour God sends on getting ready for our grand launch of The Forge in the spring.  

What are friends for?

So there you have it. My secret to a happy, healthy and productive 2018. Here’s hoping!

Forging ahead

This is a post I have been dying to write for a very long time. After nearly three years of careful planning and precision strategizing (read: much flapping, scratching of heads and wondering just what the hell happened to our lives) we are nearly ready to launch our new business. This week we, as they say in the trade, ‘soft launched’ our new brand, The Forge, on social media (warning: shameless plugs to follow shortly). So no turning back – it’s now all about building the buzz and the right kind of image so that when we officially launch in January we are inundated with bookings.

All of this means that of course from now on my blog needs to portray a picture-perfect image of our ‘organic rural idyll’ where we, and I quote, “combine modern comforts with back to nature experiences” – and that means I couldn’t possibly begin to share with you the fact that…

……this week my husband narrowly escaped death when he nearly toppled the tractor on himself lifting the recently dispatched pig on the front bucket. It turns out that stuffing your porkers full of barley and tkids' leftovers turns them into right old hefty buggers. Cue the humiliating phone call to the neighbouring farmer to bail us out. Again. Suffice to say, there’s a very large ham and a bottle of something nice heading their way this Christmas.

Oops

Help!

…..or that my kids now point blank refuse to eat our organic, home-grown cavolo nero kale, turning their noses up at this in favour of the 99p frozen peas from the supermarket. Ditto my soup, when I actually get around to making any, is dissed in favour of Heinz Tomato every time. Why do I bother?!

Snow way I'm eating that Mum!

Organic, homegrown roasted pumpkin and spring pea soup with coconut
and a hint of chili, finished with creme fraiche and a sprinkling of fresh
homegrown coriander - OR - Heinz Tomato. No contest, apparently.

….or even that I recently took delivery of a massive case of wine (from one of those deals that seems to come enclosed with every item of mail these days). There is no way I am relying on the dodgy, brownish raspberry vodka or sloe gin I made here from the land a few months ago for all my festive inebriation.  Na ah. I definitely need something very tasty and very alcoholic and from very far away (preferably Australia) to see me through this yuletide. Although I can’t help thinking that getting said case delivered on December 1^st was a bit of a mistake…hiccup….

I don't think they sent us a full box (ahem...)

And I definitely couldn’t mention that my big hairy Scot of a husband, famed for his love of the cold and the great outdoors, surviving on nothing more than a few rabbits and the odd dandelion leaf, and washing only on every fourth full moon, recently spent pretty much three days straight in a sauna in Lisbon, showering on average seven times a day. Perhaps not quite the image we are trying to portray here at The Forge, but oh so bloody needed after the past few months of hard graft to get this place ship shape and ready for the spring.

So there you go. Full disclosure and all that. From now on my posts will be wholesome and squeaky clean and ever so slightly nauseating. Maybe.

And now for that shameless plug. You would make me a very happy woman if you could like, share, comment or follow our social media sites – links below. It’s a sign of the times when all I want for Christmas is some social media love. Oh ok, and maybe a nice fat Australian Shiraz. Merry Christmas everyone!  

Facebook

Twitter

Instagram

LinkedIn

Cockerels and screams

Halloween may be over but there have been a fair few scenes around here of late that would not look out of place in your average Hammer horror movie.

Take the other morning for example. Husband sits bolt upright in bed and first words he utters to me are not,  “ Good morning darling, did you sleep well, a cup of tea perhaps cherie?” but rather “I Need A Killing Week”. And who says romance is dead?!! But rather than fleeing for the hills as some wives in similar situations may have done, I merely grunt a vague agreement and go on about my business. You see, the remaining two pigs are definitely starting to outstay their welcome (given the amount we have spent on pig nuts and flaked barley you could probably purchase all the pork in the entire country and still have some change leftover for a dirty kebab) and then there have been some pretty gruesome scenes up at the hen coop too….

Fight night

…“Mummy, why is that cockerel all red?” Turns out that four fully grown cockerels can’t actually co-habit with each other after all. Every time we walk past the three junior roosters are finding even more precarious perches to escape the wrath of Big Dot, who apparently has taken on somewhat of a Judge Dredd role in protecting his women. Blood and feathers everywhere. Time for some segregation and fattening up for Christmas methinks…. 

Is is safe to come down yet?

Then we arrived back from a recent trip to Scotland to a putrid smell of rotting flesh on the backdoor step. Now, our cat is not known for his good table manners but this was far worse than a bit of dried up Whiskas Fish Supreme he had overlooked. Oh no. After some rooting around my husband proudly produces by the tail the half-rotted carcass of the most enormous rat you have ever seen that clearly our puss had put away for safe keeping for a later date, a la Hannibal Lectpurrrrr…. (sorry).

Anyone seen any fava beans and a nice chianti?

Indeed, despite the cat’s best efforts, it is beginning to feel like a rodent invasion. I lie in bed at night woken up by the sound of mice in the roof, apparently learning to tap dance whilst wearing the clogs they picked up on their latest cheese run to Holland. And up at the hen coop there is a veritable spaghetti junction of superhighways between the rat holes and the hen feeders. Even more fuel for my husband’s much anticipated Killing Week.

And of course he chooses the exact moment when I am on a videoconference with my US colleagues in Texas, discussing the travesty that is gun crime and the insanity of people owning guns at all, to start sorting out his high-powered rifles in the background – in full view of my gobsmacked team. Perhaps having the gun cabinets positioned directly behind my desk is not the best idea… Just as well I now work in Inclusion and Diversity, and acceptance of all backgrounds is wholly encouraged. Even those with somewhat eccentric, rural lifestyles. I hope.

Here he comes...

And as if the guns weren’t enough to give any poor unsuspecting passer-by the heebee jeebees, he has also had a chainsaw pretty much permanently appended to the end of his arm as we clear lots of brush and trees in readiness for our new road. It literally goes everywhere with him – thrown in the back of the car as we collect the girls from school, hidden under the table as we have lunch, pride of place in the front seat of the Landrover. Ever ready for that spontaneous massacre. Or perhaps just trying to outwit any would-be thieves. If this turns out to be my last blog post you’ll know the answer. 

If the foonds are nay richt...

A wise old Scottish man of the woods once told us that “if the foonds are nay richt” then you are doomed to failure. He was referring to foundations and making sure you get these right before you do anything else.

It’s been a phrase that’s been ringing around our heads a lot these past few weeks as we really start to ramp up the next phase of our project. That and “shit just got real”. There’s nothing like some rather large numbers and frightening financial forecasts to focus the mind (and freak out the soul!).

But no better time of year for it than a new term. As our eldest daughter skipped off happily to start the foundation phase at the local school, so too we (quite literally) bought a new pencil case, sharpened our colouring pencils and opened our new books before staring vacantly at  the blank pages, looking for inspiration for our new name and logo. Fortunately, we’ve enlisted some professional help, working alongside some creative hipsters whose definition of ‘foonds’ involves terms like ‘mood boards’ and ‘basecamp concepts’. It basically involves them sending us loads of stuff to look at and us saying “don’t like it” and “want that one" A LOT. As long as they don't mind us being high maintenance clients I'm hopeful that we're laying the building blocks for something awesome. Watch this space…

But there’s no point in having some state-of-the-art branding if there’s nothing to actually brand. So it’s been full steam ahead with the platforms for the bell tents and the composting toilets. Much sawing of wood and hammering of nails as we design these things for the first time, using as our guide the oracles that are Pinterest and YouTube. First rookie mistake was constructing something so large inside the barn that we couldn’t actually get it out again. Even more tricky was transporting the thing to the top of the field (now affectionately known as ‘Bell End’, the end of our land where you will find all the bell tents – thank you to our inspired Facebook friends for the name). Yet slowly but surely things are starting to take shape and it is actually starting to feel very real.



And we're off


 

Taking shape...



Especially now we are in discussions with a company to build a road, yes an ACTUAL FREAKING ROAD, across our land to get the punters from the gate to aforementioned Bell End (don’t worry, I’m sure our design agency will advise us against this as our working title…., or perhaps not. It might increase the number of Google hits exponentially…?). You wouldn’t believe how much shale and stone you need to build a road. Somewhere in the region of 600 tonnes. WTF?! I can’t even fathom what that looks like. But apparently you can just scoop it off your own hillside et voila! Job done. It will make such a difference – rather than re-enacting the Bear Hunt, every time we welcome guests (swishy swashy, splishy sploshy, squelch squerch, etc. etc.) and playing a game of ‘will they, won’t they’ every time someone attempts to get their flashy, low-slung urban motors up the hill, it will be like the M6 only probably faster (given our recent experience of motorway queues and closures). And with a car park. An actual CAR PARK. And not just one but TWO. We've even been wandering about, arms outstretched, working out whether we have enough room to turn a bloody bus around! Yowsers. Nothing has ever sounded more grown up or scary.

Squelch, squerch

 


Room for a bus?



So fair to say the new term has kicked off with a vengeance. Whether or not all of these foundational plans are ‘richt’ or not, time will tell. But one thing is for sure, I'll bet if our dear old Scottish friend was still with us today, he would be telling us to go for it – better to have a given it a shot than never to have tried at all.