The (d)evolutionary

Almost before and some time after

2012-01-27T14:18:00.009+01:00

I nearly always forget to take proper "Before" shots before (ahem) starting a new project. But I always, always regret it. "Before" is not a moment that can ever be recaptured in all its natural glory.

For example, long-term readers may remember this shot from way back in November 2007, nearly before work on the orchard began:

Here's the orchard today ("After" shots are easy):

Complete with new dividing fence which means we can rest the ground every six months to help keep the chickens healthy:

More recent readers may remember this shot from last November, almost-before I let the pigs into a new piece of woodland:

And here's what the pigs have done to it after almost exactly two months:

Even more recent readers may have seen this shot of the field from just over a month ago, not very before the triticale we hand-planted started poking through the soil:

And this is what it looked like shortly after noon today:

But this is the reason for today's blog post - a genuine, bona fide "Before" shot of the new Tree Bog:

Now all I've got to do is build it.

The orchids are coming! The orchids are coming!

2012-01-20T12:28:00.016+01:00

In April 2008, Her Outdoors noticed some wild orchids in écovallée. The following year, we paid more attention and photographed 10 on the land and another two across the road for good measure. Since then I’ve been too busy to record the dates they were spotted (but those I have are shown in brackets).

Early Purple Orchid (24/04/08, 18/04/09, 9/04/10, 27/03/11)

Burnt Orchid (24/04/08, 18/04/09, 20/04/10, 10/04/11)

Lady Orchid (18/04/09, 10/04/11)

Fly Orchid (18/04/09)

White Helleborine (30/04/09, 20/04/11)

Pyramid Orchid (18/05/08, 30/04/09, 26/05/10, 25/04/11)

Red Helleborine (14/06/08, 31/05/09)

Tongue Serapia (05/05/09)

Bee Orchid (across the road - 13/05/09)

Greater Butterfly orchid (13/05/09)

Common Twayblade (16/05/09)

Lizard Orchid (across the road - 16/05/09)

This is as close to scientific study as you get on this blog. The Early Purple’s an interesting case, having appeared earlier every year for four years. Seems to be true with some of the others, too. Then you look at the Pyramid dates and see they’re all over the place.

Orchids, eh?

When’s the best time to come to écovallée?

2012-01-19T15:34:00.004+01:00

One of the reasons we decided to set up the écovallée family yurt camp in the Dordogne was because it’s one of the most popular tourist destinations in Aquitaine, which is one of the most popular tourist destinations in France, which is the most popular tourist destination in the world.

We thought everyone would enjoy the prehistoric sites, tree and water parks, canoe rivers, walking, bike and horse trails, chateaux, gardens, medieval market towns and everything else the area has to offer. Not to mention the food and wine. (Did I mention the food and wine?)

Some have enjoyed these things so much that they've already been back.

But there’s more to a holiday here than, say, a drive along the valley to Castelnaud, lunch in Domme and a leisurely stroll around the unmissable Marqueyssac. And don't feel that you have to wait until summer to come.

April and September are great months to be here. All the tourist attractions are open, the crowds practically non-existent, and the weather is typically excellent. In April you get the added bonus of seeing the woods reawaken in the most vivid green, and watching our first wild orchids appear.

More on that, later.

Self-sufficient heating - my reality

2012-01-16T16:10:00.005+01:00

Once again I find myself at a crisis point when it comes to wood for the burners.

In our first winter it was understandable. We’d moved onto the land in July, didn’t have a woodburner until December and I then spent my time finding dead-standing wood that was dry enough to burn straight away. For one reason or another (sometimes both), it wasn’t always quite dry enough and occasionally a smelly brown liquid would come back down the chimney at night, dripping on the concrete paving slab under the woodburner, and splashing nastily onto the floor.

But we were warm, with no heating bills, and I reassured myself that I’d be on top of the situation by the next winter.

However, spring, summer and autumn were spent largely building and running a yurt camp. And anyhow, a summer in the Dordogne is far too hot to don thick chainsaw trousers, helmet and gloves, and lug large bits of wood around. So instead, I marked all the dead trees I could find with a West-facing “X” at eye level.

Our second winter came and I found the marked trees easily enough, which I duly cut and burnt. This time I made a wood pile near the yurt, although I never got ahead of myself enough for it to become impressive. I also cut down half an acre of overstood coppice near our yurt for firewood for winter 2013/14. Like this:

In theory, the re-grown coppice will be cut in 2018 for use in 2020, but I’m sure some will go for fencing before then (or even yurt parts). By the end of the spring I’d pretty much exhausted the convenient dead-standing wood and was lugging wood from 60 metres away and more. Of course by hand and, naturally, uphill. (Is there any other way?)

But at least I could reassure myself I’d be on top of the situation by the following winter.

Now it is the following winter. It started well, with a covered wood store (made and part filled by our friends Alex and Laura)...

...but I still haven’t been more than a few weeks ahead of our need. Added to the firewood supply issue is the fact that we now have two yurts to heat, so two burners to feed, so nearly twice as much wood to find (we sometimes leave one yurt unheated during the day). I’m now going over 100 metres to find the nearest dead-standing wood, frustratingly passing the piles of cut coppice from last year that won’t be ready until next winter. I’ve also realised that those cut lengths are too long and they’ll need cutting, splitting and stacking under cover to dry over the summer or they still won’t be ready to burn.

But at least I have the reassurance that I’ll be on top of the situation by then. Won’t I?

Why am I blogging this? I suppose to tell you that all aspects of this self-sufficiency lark take time - and each year you only get it a little bit more right. Fifteen years from now I can imagine someone visiting, seeing our impressive wood pile, productive veggie patch and orchard, crops in the field, and established coppice, and telling us how "lucky we are" to have it all so easy.

Ah, we'll say - you just wait until you see it next year...

Wild swimming

2012-01-14T18:35:00.007+01:00

Almost everyone asks us if there's a swimming lake or river nearby. I love that no one's interested in swimming in a pool (there is one in Lalinde, but we've never been) almost as much as I love saying "Yes" on both counts.

The nearest swimming lake is about 6 km away at Lanquais, in the shadow of the chateau (which is worth a visit on its own). It costs a couple of euros to get in and there's a sandy beach, lifeguard, diving platform, grassed areas with shade from trees, snack bar and, for reasons best known to whoever came up with the idea, a fleet of miniature boats you can hire for 15 minutes a go. I went last year on a Very Hot Day and it was deeply joyous to sit in the sand up to my neck in water and let the kids run (reasonably) wild. It's a very shallow slope for a good 20 metres into the lake, along a stretch of beach maybe 100 yards long. We've had several guests who went several times.

About 20 minutes away is a river beach at Pont Vicq. This costs nothing to get onto, has swimming areas marked out in the water and also has trees, shade and access to ice creams. One extra bonus here is that you can hire canoes, get bussed up the river to Siorac and paddle back down the Dordogne at your pleasure. The car park's a bit small, so you might want to get there early. For non-drivers, there's a train station at Le Buisson which is maybe a 20-minute walk.

It wouldn't be fair not to mention Limeuil at this point, which is one of the most beautiful places you could want to see. Two rivers meet here, with bridges across both, and there's a beach that's popular with friends of ours. I describe it as Richmond (in London) without the crowds. At the top of the hill is a beautiful park with panoramic views that was about €7.50 per adult to get into in 2011, but is occasionally free (which is when the locals go). There are restaurants aplenty and this is on our must-see list. We hired canoes from here last year and were bussed up to Siorac, but by Pont Vicq I was knackered (and I was pretty fit) and looked longingly at the beach knowing full well that Limeuil was probably a good 45 minutes further on.

Another thing we did for the first time last year was visit the aqua park at Le Bugue. This was unexpectedly expensive to get into (and the entrance fee had to be paid in cash) but so good that we'll definitely go back. There are pools for all ages, water slides, those bungee things over trampolines, playgrounds, and a lake with a load of huge inflatables. Bigger kids and adults put on life vests and dive in for 30 minutes of non-stop fun. Some of the inflatables are quite hard to get onto, even for a fit person, but well worth the effort. I didn't bother with the huge pyramid, but other people couldn't get enough of diving and somersaulting off the top.

There are other places, but these are the ones best known to us. Please add any more recommendations in the comments bit.

Get ready for the world not to end

2012-01-01T12:17:00.003+01:00

My world’s always been about to end. I was born a few years after the Cuban missile crisis and grew up, as you may have done, permanently four minutes from being annihilated by a rainstorm of nuclear bombs.

But it didn’t happen.

A few years later, after many lesser-known ends of the world had come and gone, we had the year 2000. Planes might have fallen from the sky, people might have died on operating tables, and all those nuclear deterrents might have gone off anyway.

But they didn’t.

Since then, we’ve been threatened by economic and environmental collapse, social and political chaos, more nuclear bombs (this time in the hands of unelected terrorists) and at least one The Rapture.

And it still hasn’t happened.

Which brings us to 2012. You’d have to have spent a lot of time in a cave not to have heard about the Mayan calendar coming to an end on December 21st. And certainly a lot of people are going to go crazy about it between now and then. But I’m going to put my pixels on the line below and write this:

It's not going to be the end of the world.

Obviously, if armageddon’s just a few full moons away, there’s no need to save energy, manage resources sustainably, eat and shop responsibly, and all that. But if the sun’s going to continue to rise and set, as it has for an unimaginably long time, this is exactly what we should all be doing - planning for the world to go on.

True, many people have been wilfully making a mess recently, childishly assuming that someone will tidy up after them. But it’s my impression that we are that someone. There is no one else. Just us seven and a bit billion people scattered around the place, with our unique fingerprints, talents, hopes and dreams.

If any world is going to end on December 21st 2012 (at 12:21:12 exactly, if you like), I’d like it to be the world of selfishness, ignorance and abuse. In its place I’d like to see a world of awareness, compassion and love. That’s the planet I want to live on and the environment I want to leave for future generations.

To people who say it’s not an ideal world, I agree. But it could be.

There. I’ve said it. Now I’ve got to go and work on our to-do list. You wouldn’t believe how much we want to get done before January 1st 2013.

Waffley end to 2011

2011-12-31T13:06:00.004+01:00

So we watched the Jamie Oliver Christmas shows. Now, we love Jamie Oliver (not in a sexual way, you understand). His early TV shows were superb, as were his first books, and together they made a huge, lasting, positive impact on our cooking. He's gone on to do Great Things, and we wish him and his expanding waistline all the best.

Excited by some of his seasonal recipes (although a bit weirded out by the number of supermarket packets being used - we're more used to Hugh's way of doing things), Her Outdoors made the waffle and hot chocolate breakfast on Boxing Day. Here's the proof:

I hope I'm not too late to say: Don't try this at home. It's utterly inedible. Far too much baking powder and the salt was overpowering (we did substitute salted butter 'cos we don't have anything else, but even without it, it would have been an awful waffle). The hot chocolate was OK - superbly thick - but there were complaints of powdery nature. After a single bite each, we gave it all to the pigs and chickens, and Jamie's reputation took a savage beating.

Although this experiment was a disaster, the idea of waffles and hot chocolate is a good 'un. And fortunately, Her Outdoors has huge experience in pancakes and waffles, having lived in California for many years. So she took the waffle recipe from "Joy of Cooking" and the real hot chocolate from The River Cottage Family Cookbook, with a couple of minor modifications, and made this:

It was sublime. Exactly what we would have wanted on Boxing Day. Light, fluffy and filling waffle with a rich, sweet and chocolatey drink on the side. Proper - as Jamie would say in the old days - pukka tucker.

Field study

2011-12-25T12:53:00.004+01:00

This field was prepared by our first set of pigs a few years ago, then harrowed a bit by Pepito but not planted (ran out of time) a year later, then scraped a bit by a tractor and part planted (which the deer ate) the year after that, then double ploughed and double harrowed, rocks removed by hand, hand sown and harrowed again for good measure a few weeks ago. But that's not important right now.

What is important is that the bit nearest the camera on the left had a few tractor buckets of Pepito manure added to it over the first 30 metres or so (that's about 30 yards) and that bit's doing best of all. Plus, that whole left side was sown by Her Outdoors and seems to be doing much better than my half. (The first bit I over-sowed so that doesn't really count.) And we're not quite sure why.

But everything in life is an experiment. We'll be keeping a close eye on this and coming back to the field study from time to time, not least to show Ben and Anna from flirtingwithyurting how their help has helped us.

Merry Christmas by the way.

World market

2011-12-10T14:34:00.003+01:00

Her Outdoors set up her stall today for the Lalinde Christmas Market. But just over seven billion of you couldn't make it (the parking would have been a nightmare) - and if you're one of those, this is what you missed.

More mushroom magic

2011-12-08T14:12:00.003+01:00

So our mushroom experiments began with the funky looking helvella crispa as described immediately below. Some time later, a trusted neighbour introduced us to the Coulemelle (Parasol Mushroom in English, macrolepiota procera in Biology) seen in a post well below that. Then we tried the also-impossible-to-mistake coprinus comatus (Shaggy Ink Cap, Lawyer’s Wig or Shaggy Mane) and thought we were doing pretty well, adding one mushroom a year to our diet.

Then 2011 happened. Our first new mushroom of the year was this beauty:

In English it’s called the Beefsteak Fungus (in French, the Beef Tongue, which looks more accurate and, in Latin, fistulina helpatica). Again we checked with our books and pharmacist and we were blessed with finding a textbook example to make it easier to swallow. I now check the base of every tree I pass on the off-chance I’ll spot another, which slows down my walks through the woods - another bonus.

And a few weeks ago, a former neighbour told me about the rosé des prés (Field Mushroom in English, Meadow Mushroom in American, agaricus campestris in Latin) which immediately became Our Favourite Mushroom. A small one, freshly picked, entirely dominates whatever you put it in - and this morning I came back from feeding the animals with two, plus a half dozen Elfin Saddles.

Got to love the rain.

The mushroom we've been waiting for

2011-12-04T09:56:00.006+01:00

Eating foraged mushrooms is an unnerving experience - especially the first time - very especially when you have young children who couldn't fend for themselves if you fell dead into your risotto. Which is why we only eat mushrooms that cannot be confused with anything else.

Like this one.

It's called Helvella crispa (or White Saddle, Elfin Saddle or Common Helvel for short) and is the wildest looking wild mushroom you're ever likely to pick. It can't be eaten raw and is a bit of a pain to clean, but well worth the effort.

It's actually the first wild mushroom we ever ate.

First we looked it up in two mushroom books, which are both in French to add room for error. Then we took it to a pharmacist trained to give safety advice on mushrooms, who didn't recognise it (a bit of a worry there) and had to call us back to confirm its edibility (which is a word I've never written before). Finally we ate it, probably on toast with some cream - and lived to write the blog.

Ever since, we've waited for it to appear on the same patch of drive, never knowing exactly when that will be. One year a wild boar got to them before we did (presumably the don't-eat-raw law doesn't apply to them) but yesterday I made a momentous discovery while chasing another hunting dog. There's a second patch of them in the old pig area.

Or at least there was until just before dinner last night. Yum.

Socking it to Christmas

2011-12-03T13:47:00.012+01:00

The craftiness of Her Outdoors continues in the run-up to the mid-Winter festival. She made this awesome sock monkey using this website, having been inspired by these designs. All she used was a pair of socks, some stuffing, a needle, thread and a couple of hours.

A post of two books

2011-12-02T12:30:00.002+01:00

Back in May 2007, I hinted at some books that have profoundly influenced my thinking. I said they "might be a bit New Age for your tastes" and left it at that. (What a book tease.)

But I recently got a message on a Popular Social Networking Service from a former colleague who said I lent her one of those books and it also had a profound influence on her. It just so happens that this was the book that started me off on a journey from the kitchen table in an apartment in Minneapolis to this old garden table in a yurt in the Dordogne.

Who knows where it could take you?

The book is called “Journey of Souls” by Dr Michael Newton. In a sentence, it’s about what happens between the point of death and the point of re-birth, using case studies from many clients under deep hypnosis to tell the whole story. Personally, I’ve always had a soft spot for reincarnation and it was great to read about the process in more detail. But it’s a touchy subject for a lot of people, so I’ll say no more about it for now.

The other book I’ll give you (it’s nearly mid-winter, can you tell?) is far less challenging. It's called “The Time Traveler’s Wife” by the astonishingly named Audrey Niffenegger. You may have read this already, but I’m re-reading it now and it’s just as good the second time round. Unwaveringly brilliant (and unless I'm mistaken, a key source text for the current series of "Doctor Who").

Christmas markets

2011-11-27T12:03:00.005+01:00

Her Outdoors is realising a very long-held ambition today. After four weeks of being crafty, she's selling her own hand-stitched Christmas decorations on a market stall. For those of you who can't make it to Cadouin before the end of the afternoon, here's what she has on offer.

If there's anything left, she'll be going to the Christmas market in Lalinde on December 10th. Of course, you could always send an email through the Booking Form of the website if you want her to make one especially for you. The decorations are €4 each or three for a tenner, plus postage and packaging. The wreaths are far too cheap at €12 and €15 (I think) - but they'd be far too expensive to post from France. You wouldn't believe me it I told you the rates.

Out and about

2011-11-24T14:44:00.003+01:00

Here's a shot of the pigs this morning, recovering from the terrierist attack the other day. Still small, but bigger than they were...

Kids and French

2011-11-24T09:40:00.003+01:00

One question that comes up from time to time is: How did the children cope with French?

The short answer is: Better than us.

When we arrived in France, The Daughter was six and a half. Despite the best efforts of Her Outdoors, she knew next to no French. But she's a very sociable person and we didn't worry too much about how she would cope at school.

On the first day, it was hard to send this little person into a playground where she knew no one and had no way of communicating. But by the end of the day she had both English-speaking and bilingual friends. Before the week was out, she'd been invited back to a new best friend's house and everything looked OK.

There were some downs as well as ups, like when the teacher (rightly) banned English speaking in the classroom, but the desire to play overcame everything and after three months she spoke French very well. By the end of the year she was fluent. And by the second year she not only spoke with the village accent, but was at the top of her class in French (where she remains, jockeying for first place with another English girl).

So it would be hard not to say she's coped pretty well. Only her name gives her away as a non-French person.

Boy had a gentler introduction to the language. After we'd been here about a year, he went to a childminder a few mornings a week. He was going to start school in the September and we felt he should at least know what he was being asked to do, even if he couldn't say much himself. The childminder had no English, so he had no option but to learn.

His first year at school was tough, but he was very little (his class was actually called "Very Little") and it would have been tough anywhere. But, again, by the end of the year he was happy and competent. We hardly ever hear him speak French, as we just use English at home, but I'm beginning to ask him for pronunciation advice of difficult words (his rolled "r" is incredible), while we consult The Daughter on the meaning of expressions that don't translate.

Our French isn't terrible. And maybe with eight hours of lessons a day, four days a week, we would have been fluent after a year. But I doubt it. For adults, I think it takes a little bit longer.

War on terriers

2011-11-21T14:39:00.004+01:00

Last year, our pigs were attacked by two hunting dogs (cute little terriers the like of which you'd expect to see on an ageing grandparent's knee wearing a tartan collar). Fortunately, me and Her Outdoors were both on the land at the time and, in the 30 seconds it took for the dogs to jump over the pig fence, pin down our biggest pig and try and tear it apart by pulling it round a tree, we were both on the scene. Me screaming at the two beaters in robust Anglo Saxon, Her Outdoors shouting more politely in French.

The pig survived. The local Chasse president agreed to pay the vet's bill for the antibiotics, and said they would hunt further from our boundary in future.

Despite this assurance, one of us still runs down to the land when we hear gunshots and dogs nearby. Luckily, this only happens at weekends, on public holidays and any day in between, and usually only very early in the morning when we're just about to enjoy a nice hot mug of good coffee. Like last Saturday.

I went down to check on the pigs and stood around for a few minutes, listening like a human. Then I thought: 'This is bloody ridiculous, I could be here all morning' and came back for breakfast. When I went back on the animal food run, I heard yapping coming from the pig house, grabbed a stick and ran.

I chased off the dog - another lovely ickle terrier - and found all three pigs cowering in their house. I shut them in and went after the hunters. (It's amazing how quickly you get used to walking up to someone with a loaded gun and telling them they're not welcome - I've even learnt some robust French to drive my point home.) Sadly, I didn't find them.

The pigs are not doing so well this time. The biggest had the most bites, but he's walking around getting on with things. The smallest can't put any weight on one of her back legs, although she's more perky today than yesterday. The middle one was fine yesterday but wasn't looking at all good this morning.

And we're both a bit pissed off.

My first response is to want to shoot any dogs that come onto our land. But it's not their fault. They are apparently starved for a few days before being taken hunting and are only doing their job - quite well at that. They don't know the difference between a wild pig and a domestic one living in the wild, and probably can't read the signs banning hunting here. So we're going to catch future hunting dogs and call their owners instead. And make fencing an expensive priority.

Sure, we will probably get the vet's bill paid, and hopefully compensation if one or more pig dies. But where's the compensation for us being permanently on full alert? Jumping up at any dog barking (there's one barking up the road right now) and running off to defend our livestock? It's nerve-wracking - and not how we want to be spending our time.

I wanted to take some nice sunny pictures of the pigs on Saturday, to show you how well they're coming along, and how much they're enjoying their newly expanded pig area. Can't do that now, can I?

Our Little England debut

2011-11-16T11:56:00.002+01:00

In which we swear a little bit.

(I'll let you into a little secret - in take one I didn't say: "boy chickens".)

You're one click away from the "Little England" yurt camp as seen on ITV1

2011-11-15T15:11:00.005+01:00

If you're looking for the yurt camp featured on ITV1's "Little England" last night, you've come to the right place.

Or, nearly.

What you've actually found is the blog of the whole story, from a few months after we had the idea to "sell the house and buy a field", to a very warm mid-November, where we've been fielding emails from people we haven't seen or heard from in a very long time and getting ready for the cold weather that's due to arrive in the next few days.

If you want to visit the website RIGHT NOW, to look at some pictures of the yurts, read a bit about smallholding, hear a bit about the surrounding area, find out how much it costs to stay, and see the availability calendar, click here.

But if you've got some time and want to see what it was really like to get off the hamster wheel and set up a yurt camp in rural France, pull up a coffee and start at the beginning. It takes a while to read the blog, but I did it the other day and it's quite a story (even if I do write so myself).

You can always visit the website later.

One more thing, the yurts and us will be on "Little England" again in a few weeks. I hope the producer is as kind to us then as he was last night. He's called Simon. Not the Simon you'll read about in the blog. But Simon none the less.

écovallée on Little England

2011-11-07T14:19:00.002+01:00

Last Spring, écovallée got a phone call from ITV asking if we’d be interested in being filmed for “Little England” - a 12-part prime-time TV series scheduled for broadcast later in the year.

Four and a half years ago we’d have said no.

We’d just had the BBC round to do a piece on the Daughter’s school in Brighton. A very well-dressed, well-spoken guy showed up at our house at 7.30 in the morning. He did all the filming himself, and the sound recording, and the interviewing, filmed some more at the school, and even more at a political party conference, then cut together a few minutes for the lunchtime news and a longer special report for that evening. He was incredible - and incredibly nice - and I guess he worked that hard every day.

But for us, once was enough. It was a strain having to edit what you were thinking before you said it out loud. Her Outdoors did brilliantly, producing amazing soundbites from nowhere (and I’m supposed to be the writer), but afterwards she said: ‘Never again’. I had to agree - even though we were about to leave the country for rural France.

We didn’t want cameras in our faces when we were screwing up, exposing our total ignorance, shouting, crying, bleeding and everything else we expected to experience as we went from suburban family to yurt-dwelling smallholders. We wanted to enjoy it all privately.

OK, I’ve blogged the whole thing. But Her Outdoors has always said these posts lack emotional content. Having re-read them as background to a book I’m writing, I see what she means.

I’ve always tried to make light of what we’ve been through in “Dordogneshire”. But for far too long, it was hell. We lost a load of money, were ripped off, lied to, misled, exploited and punished for being English - and we discovered this is normal. I read recently that 18 out of 20 ex-pats who move here return to England, broke and broken by the experience. It sounds a lot, but it’s possible. Most of the people we know live in some kind of survival and they all have horror stories to tell.

It would make great telly. But that’s not what Little England is about.

Little England is about the sunny side of the Dordogne, which is one of the reasons we said yes to doing the show (not just because the producers are so nice - or for the free publicity). It’s gentle, feel-good TV with beautiful scenery. As a viewer, I think some shows have worked better than others. As a participant, I hope Geoffrey Palmer goes easy on us. But as someone who’s made the move, I want to warn people who might be tempted to follow the thousands of people who have made this part of France their home.

Yes, it’s a beautiful place (we didn’t know quite how beautiful until after we moved here). Yes, you can buy a large property for a relatively small amount of money (still well over-priced, as French and English alike attempt to take advantage of newcomers’ ignorance). Yes, the sun shines a lot (which is why we chose this part of the country to live under canvas). But as the occasional comment in Little England reveals, making a living here is unimaginably hard.

We haven’t done it yet. Last year’s money from the yurts went back into the infrastructure, buying the solar shower, gravel filter, new canvas and more. We’ve only survived at all thanks to the overwhelming generosity of what I call the English mafia, our friends and family, and the eventual backing of our mayor.

From next year, depending on the economy, we will move from survival to thrival (Her’s Outdoors’ expression - see what I mean about sound bites?). It feels like we’ve gained many lifetimes of experience over the last four and a half years. It’s been a genuine emotional rollercoaster, with elation, horror, fear, love, pain and joy - and our world’s been turned upside down many times.

I don’t know what exposing ourselves to an audience of several million people will do (we’re due to appear on November 14th and December 5th on ITV1, at 8pm), but it felt right to say yes. Whatever happens, we’re determined to enjoy the ride.

Mushroom magic

2011-11-05T16:25:00.009+01:00

November 5th 2011 is Coulemelle Day.

Coulemelle, also known as the Parasol Mushroom (Macrolepiota procera to Latin readers), is one of the few mushrooms we know we can eat. We were introduced to it by a neighbour a few years ago and, after checking two books and discovering it can't be confused with other mushrooms due to its size, we look forward to it every year.

Calendar watchers will want to know that it arrived on November 4th 2009:

And on September 22nd 2010:

Here's a quick recipe to celebrate this year's magical free food day, which will extend our enjoyment by three months (if we can leave them in the freezer that long).

Bag yourself some mushies from the field. (5 mins)

Tear into bits and make a pile. (10 mins)

Put a batch in a hot wok with oil and butter. (5 secs)

Sautée. (less than 5 mins)

Put on a plate to cool. (3 secs)

Bag up, freeze and repeat while crops last. (Only a few days)

Many horses make light work

2011-10-29T14:30:00.006+02:00

In truly unbelievable act of generosity, one of our favourite neighbours gave us a tractor that looks exactly like this:

Renault tractor buffs will immediately recognise an R 7051 - but that's not important right now. Blog followers will spot the cut off plastic bottle preventing rain getting into the air intake and killing the engine (I'm not getting caught like that again) - but that's not important either.

What is important is that this new toy - includes bucket (but no battery) - has made our big winter project of collecting rocks from the field and dumping them on the road through the woods far, far easier. After only a few days it already looks like this:

Next year's guests can look forward to their own access - and écovallée parking (thanks Simon) - when visiting the yurt camp. Which currently looks like this:

How to make a yurt platform - Alex's fairly definitive guide (including pictures)

2011-10-07T10:29:00.018+02:00

Now that I've made a raised wooden platform for the play yurt,

a beaten earth platform with dry-stone retaining wall for our 18-foot yurt,

an 18-foot beaten earth platform with woven chestnut retaining fence for our first guest yurt,

a wooden platform for our second 18-foot yurt,

and a second 18-foot earth platform on a slope for our second guest yurt,

I feel qualified to write a fairly definitive guide to how to build a yurt platform. I'll be happy to answer questions if anything needs clarification, time permitting.

Before I started my latest platform, I bought:
o Thirty 2.5-metre lengths of rough 7.5 cm by 4 cm douglas fir from a nearby woodyard
o A six-litre tin of treatment against wood-boring insects
o 27 square metres of pine flooring, 23 mm thick, 10 cm wide and 2 m long
o A five-litre tin of protective treatment for the finished floor - oil with a white pigment
o A box of 200 screws 70 mm long, 5 mm wide
o A box of nails 40 mm long, 2 mm wide

On day one, I laid down and levelled the floor joists 61 cm apart, and screwed noggings between them to strengthen the frame.

I was lucky enough to have almost level ground to work on, and some old tiles and bits of wood lying around. Levelling an area like this takes a huge amount of work and is covered in other posts.

On day two, I joined the ends of the joists, trying to get these outside noggings as close to the finished edge as possible.

The weight of the yurt will be resting on this edge, which is why I put supports at the top, bottom and sides.

An important point here, in capital letters: THE FINISHED FLOOR FOR AN 18-FOOT COPPICED YURT IS 18 FEET 4 INCHES - the 18 feet is in the internal measurement. If you are using sawn timber, just add the wall width on both sides to your internal finished size.

On day three, I started laying the floor, aiming for as little wastage as possible, pre-drilling holes diagonally through the tongues wherever the boards crossed a joist.

This is what I can do in about 10 hours working alone.

On day four, I finished laying the floor while Her Outdoors applied the first layer of oil. Unfortunately, the oil had an eight to 12-hour drying time between coats, so this day ended up being quite long too. Rain had appeared on the forecast I use and we were now chasing the weather as so often happens.

On day five, I screwed 10 cm strips of 5 mm ply to the outside edge of the platform.

For some reason this doesn't come up much in yurt books, or sites talking about yurt platforms, but we find it essential. The edge makes putting the frame up a breeze, doesn't cost much, cuts down on draughts, holds in the insulation and even stops slugs coming in to eat the cat food.

If you have large items of furniture and small doors like us, you'll want to move these onto the platform before putting your retaining edges on.

Night yurt

2011-09-29T21:52:00.003+02:00

This is for Dave, who wanted to see why I said the yurt and gazebo look awesome and make two yurts look greedy. Who could want more than this?

Except someone who would want it in focus.

Something for us

2011-09-23T17:39:00.003+02:00

This week, I've been trying to get the work:work balance sorted out. I've been doing the physical stuff in the mornings: cutting and stripping acacia, and digging post holes in readiness for a gazebo next to our yurt (it's about time we did something just for us). In the afternoons I've been doing the mental stuff: tweaking the website, writing a book, getting in touch with an agent and all that.

Gazebo-wise, it's worked out pretty well. Here it was a few minutes ago:

Problem is, the physical stuff is such fun that lunch gets later and later, and the time for writing before the kids come home from school gets shorter and shorter. And as I found in the summer holidays, kids and book writing don't mix. At all.

Interest in rocks

2011-09-18T16:46:00.005+02:00

I love this time of year. When we don't have guests we are open to people who come and help, bringing all manner of interests and skills with them. Yesterday, Marc and Aimee rocked up at the start of their long walk to Italy. You read that right - they're walking (you can follow them on their freedombyfoot blog link on the right).

Now Marc is an archaeologist. And you may know I've been wanting an archaeologist here for YEARS. Especially one specialising in prehistory. So you won't be surprised that I quickly exposed him to my Interesting Rocks.

These are some of the countless rocks I have unearthed during the making of écovallée. Some or all of these rocks have been dissed by some or all of the people who have seen them. But I kept the faith, and Marc has identified these as being definitely shaped by man or woman.

He actually got quite excited about one of them.

Instant wood store

2011-09-18T16:29:00.005+02:00

Last week I spent two days being an extra in a French film and two nights being the first person to sleep in a friend's beautiful straw-bale house. While I was away, Alex and Laura made this.

A couple of mornings cutting and splitting wood, and it's already one third full. We've never been so prepared for winter.

It's timing all about

2011-09-09T14:26:00.004+02:00

Just back from a 10-day holiday in England, where I was an usher at my little brother's wedding.

It all went very well, thanks. The only complaints I'd make are the slate-grey sky we saw almost every day, the size of the new shopping centres in Exeter and Leicester (which seem to be excessively large), and the price of beer in pubs.

Although Alex and Laura looked after écovallée and our guests magnificently while we were away (see their Life in Brian blog link on the right), you'll appreciate there's a lot to do right now. Projects include making a shelter for our wood pile, building a gazebo and roof for the clay oven (see below), tweaking the website to reflect next year's more rustic offering, laying a 100-metre (100-yard) road and car parking area near the Play Yurt using our own hand-gathered stone, building the snail-shell shower cubicle we swapped through project1p, and writing a book designed to coincide with the screening of a 12-part TV series called "Little England".

Which is why I'm in a blind panic at this very moment. You see, I used to think I had months to write the book. I used to think the TV show was going to be aired some time between October and April 2012.

But I was wrong.

Today's post (US: mail) included a flyer that informs me "Little England" will start on Monday. This Monday. Monday September 12th. I don't know which of the 12 shows we're going to be in, but I strongly suspect I won't have much time for blog writing between now and Christmas.

How to repair our pizza oven

2011-08-28T09:29:00.011+02:00

Remember our pizza oven from last year? This one:

Well, during the winter we had a fall of heavy snow, which crushed the gazebo, one of the broken poles of which pierced the oven, which let in water, which destroyed it. Before we even lit it.

In the last couple of weeks, Her Outdoors took the broken section off...

Mixed it about a bit...

Put it back together...

Covered it with what looks like icing...

Made a slip layer, with help from The Daughter...

Made it beautiful...

Set a fire...

And actually lit it...

All it needs now is a proper roof. And some pizza (doh).

Weather postcast week ending 28/08

2011-08-28T09:05:00.002+02:00

A bit of everything last week, with two days of 38C and sun, some perfect days in the mid-20s, a few thunderstorms, a bit of rain, and daytime temperatures as low as 15C (one of this week's lovely guests had a thermometer). No snow though.

Packing suggestion: A bag for all seasons. Just leave the gloves. Unless you're coming to do some work.

Weather postcast week ending 21/08

2011-08-21T09:03:00.002+02:00

It may have rained briefly during the week, but the weather was dominated by hot and very hot days, pushing up towards 40C. Fortunately, we have trees and transpiration, which brings the temperature down by several degrees. There was the swimming lake at Lanquais, river at Le Buisson (which could do with more parking) and water park near Le Bugue if you felt the need to be immersed.

Suggested clothing: A light bag containing shorts, all-terrain sandals, T-shirts, shades and hat.

Hot tip: Don't forget to take your car keys out of your pocket before jumping into the water.

écovallée: the world's No1 family yurt camp?

2011-08-17T09:05:00.006+02:00

Two and a half years ago, I had a crack at the yurt camp world record in this post, wherein I mentioned Yurt Professional Matt who hires coppiced ash yurts through Yurtopia (and made our 12-foot Roaming Yurt), yurt makers Yurtshop who crafted écovallée's own coppiced chestnut guest and play yurts - and even wrote 'yurt campsite' a couple of times for good measure.

It was an unveiled attempt at securing the top spot in the world's leading search engine, based on what little knowledge of SEO I had at the time. And it failed, earning a historically forgettable second place according to this computer.

Perhaps I should have used words like yurting and yurters, instead of yurt and yurts; or expressions like nomadic yurts, yurt campsites and family yurt camps, instead of the more simplistic yurt campsite; or included geographical references like Dordogne yurt camp, yurt camp in France and Aquitaine yurt campsite.

Only this post will tell.

Weather postcast week ending 14/08

2011-08-14T11:07:00.002+02:00

A full week of blue skies and sunshine, with maybe the odd cloud thrown in for good measure; I can't remember it raining at all. Still not the punishingly hot temperatures we've seen in the last couple of years - something's definitely amiss in the upper troposphere (or wherever) - hitting the low to middle 30s at best.

Dont forget to pack: Skin-safe sunscreen if you're going out to the lake or river to swim, shades and that fleece you think you wouldn't possibly need in August in the South of France. Late evening and early morning still a bit nippy.

How to make a mobile rabbit run

2011-08-12T17:17:00.007+02:00

I couldn't find a picture or design of a mobile, fox-proof rabbit run online. So I drew one on the back of an envelope, bought some wood and made this:

Here it is from the other side:

Welded mesh is apparently essential for rabbits, and we've certainly found chicken wire can be eaten through or snagged on roots, leading to time lost chasing rabbits round the orchard. But seeing as these runs will be in the field, any escape would lead to a wild population in close proximity to our veggie patch. (Which is forbidden.)

I say 'these runs', because the boys and the girls need separate accommodation. Here's the girls' one, finished this morning:

And from the other side:

Rabbit run enthusiasts will immediately spot the rope handle, which makes moving the run considerably easier. We found some onduline, too, which makes a very professional looking roof for the hutch. Other bits of learning applied to Run II are:

o Wider bits of tongue and groove make for fewer nails and faster construction.

o Topping the run with expensive (in France anyway) mesh is a complete waste of money. I tried cutting some corrugated iron in half but it made a ridiculous noise, so I used some old chicken wire instead. The corrugated iron sheet now sits on this, creating much-needed shade in this summer heat.

Here are the measurements if you decide you like the run so much you want to make your own:

And now, back to the weather.

Weather postcast week ending 07/08

2011-08-07T09:26:00.002+02:00

A bit of everything last week, with a couple of wet days and at least one day hitting 30C. Otherwise overcast and tropically humid.

The lack of Proper Summer Weather still hasn't made it to the news, which is dominated by a turbulent stockmarket, almost US default, US debt downgrade and trouble in t' Eurozone (for future reference, for context). A friend of mine said the summer in Holland has been the worst since, like, EVER - but online news editors have conspicuously failed to pick up on this. Maybe they never go outside.

Packing suggestion: Shorts, off-road sandals, T-Shirts, waterproofs and a hoodie if staying up until 1am.

Weather postcast week ending 31/07

2011-07-31T10:03:00.002+02:00

A week of three halves. The first: Miserable, wet and depressing like the previous week with a mix of heavy rain and drizzle. The second: Sunny and warm with some clouds and temperatures in the highs 20s. The third: A cold lager in the square in Lalinde, watching one of the bands in the free annual Tradigourdines two-evening festival.

I looked up the 'normal' weather for the region last week and temperatures are supposed to have been in the 30-35C region for the whole of July. Those 10-15 degrees really make a difference.

Packing suggestion: A mixed bag, with stuff to keep you warm when cold, and other stuff to keep you cool when hot.

Weather postcast week ending 24/07

2011-07-24T09:05:00.003+02:00

Unrelenting rain, day and night, almost all week. Without doubt the most miserable weather we can remember. And unheard of in July, according to our retired neighbour who has lived here all his life.

Damp, depressing, and disastrous for one family who decided to head home on Tuesday (it wasn't a total washout for them - they'd been in Provence for a week already - but nobody wants to see their guests leave early).

Suggested clothing: Jumpers, waterproofs, wellies, umbrellas and everything else you'd need for a holiday in the UK.

Weather postcast week ending 17/07

2011-07-17T09:16:00.003+02:00

Some of the heaviest rain we have seen but (thankfully) not all the time. A few days of fine weather with enough sunshine to make a trip to the lake at Lanquais worthwhile, though not especially hot.

Very unlikely this was a typical July week, unless you mean the British usage of the word, as in: 'Wait all year for my holiday, go to the South of France and it rains - typical!"

Suggested clothing: Everything you'd need for a British summer's day, including shorts, T-shirts, shades, long trousers, waterproofs, sweater, all-terrain shoes and a dry sense of humour. Needful to say, the guests loved it.

Weather postcast week ending 10/07

2011-07-10T09:43:00.003+02:00

Dry and hot all week (high 20s to low 30s), though frequently overcast, ending last night with the loudest thunderstorm for two years and about an inch of rain.

Suggested clothing: As light as possible, and appropriate swimwear for trips to the river in Le Buisson. Long trousers and hoodie for the evenings. Some kind of waterproof for the rain forecast today.

Ecovallée II

2011-07-03T10:12:00.003+02:00

After a staggering amount of work, with a couple of tweaks still to do, we have become a two-yurt campsite. Here's the second yurt platform before the frame went on...

And afterwards...

Needful to say, we are having a relatively lazy day today and looking forward to that 'relaxing French lifestyle' we came here to enjoy. (A lifestyle that evades everyone we know.)

Weather postcast week ending 03/07

2011-07-03T10:04:00.002+02:00

Unrelenting blue skies and sunshine. The highest temperature was Monday at 44C in the shade, but there were plenty of days from the high 20s to the mid 30s. Something for everyone who likes it hot. A distant, rainless thunderstorm one night.

Suggested clothing: As little as possible. A jumper or hoodie still needed for the first hour of the day (depending on when you get up, obviously).

Smallholding getting bigger

2011-06-26T08:36:00.005+02:00

This week I have mostly been doing this.

It's the second guest yurt platform. It's not quite where I wanted it to be at this stage, with people due to stay in it this time next week, and I'm a bit scared by the 38C forecast for Monday. But that's life on this smallholding - we're always chasing the weather for one reason or another.

Meanwhile, the pigs are getting bigger.

And so are the chicks.

We had 15 chicks born this year - a massive improvement on last year, when we ended up with one; and he ended up in a casserole.

Weather postcast week ending 26/06

2011-06-26T08:32:00.003+02:00

Warm and fine or sunny all week. It feels like summer is here with a vengeance and they're talking about 36C later on today.

Suggested clothing: Shorts, light T-shirts and hats (or hat if you only have one).

Something else finished

2011-06-19T11:06:00.003+02:00

The first stage of our kids' treehouse is finally complete.

It only took three and a half years.

Lovely new bridge

2011-06-19T10:44:00.005+02:00

The old bridge across the river to Lalinde has gone.

And been replaced by this new, wider bridge.

I think they've done a surprisingly good job. You can see much more of the river as you drive across and, when walking, won't feel that you're taking your life into your hands, turning sideways on the pavement so lorries can pass.

Don't worry - I will only go into the irony of building a lovely new bridge five years after Peak Oil (according to the IEA) in this short paragraph.

The small road up the hill to écovallée from the bridge is now one way, and I'll be sending out new directions for cars and bikes to this year's guests very soon.

Weather postcast week ending 19/06

2011-06-19T10:28:00.003+02:00

A real mix of weather this week, with periods of sun, cloud, strong wind, and rain in all its forms - very much like a British summer. Our lovely guests didn't mind, although coming from Wales may have something to do with it, and wore shorts and T-shirts pretty much all the time.

One of the good things about coming here on holiday is that you can always visit a cave, where it rains all the time. Or go wine tasting - I didn't realise how many vineyards there are nearby until I saw the leaflet.

(OK, that's two of the good things.)

Yurt goes aroaming

2011-06-13T20:33:00.006+02:00

Spent the last couple of days finishing the 12-foot Roaming Yurt in time for its first outing - a pre- and post-wedding yurt in the north of the Dordogne.

Good job I checked the email yesterday, just after I finished the tenons on the door uprights. It said they wanted the yurt today - not tomorrow as I thought (no wonder I was so relaxed). Which meant the paint on the door was still a bit wet when I put the yurt in the car.

And the cover still needs a couple of tweaks before it's completely perfect. Here it was this afternoon when I finished setting it up.

So if you need a yurt this summer and can't stay with us because WE'RE FULLY BOOKED UNTIL SEPTEMBER 3, you can always book the Roaming Yurt. It's more for couples than a family although the four of us lived in a 12-foot yurt for a few months. Depends how much space you think you need. Also ideal for an extra bedroom for extra special guests (or stick them in your own bed and sleep in it yourself).

Email for availability and to see if I'm in the mood for some kind of deal or other.

Weather postcast week ending 12/06

2011-06-12T08:46:00.004+02:00

Richard Bacon said it best on a Big Breakfast broadcast back in 1993 (perhaps you saw it): Great weather if you're an otter - or you collect water.

Fortunately, we do collect water. And the ground desperately needed the long - free - steady soaking it received over the last week. The rain also loosened up the ground nicely for the guest yurt platform I'm making in the woods. It wasn't constant rain, but it happened every day.

Suggested clothing: Waterproofs that are actually waterproof. Jumper for the mornings and evenings.

WARNING: If you are from a drought-ridden region hoping to experience water falling from the sky, or from Wales and want to feel at home when you're away, this postcast is no guarantee it will rain during last week next year. It could just as easily be a week of blazing sunshine and 30-degree temperatures. I wouldn't want you to be disappointed.

Big jobs

2011-06-06T18:48:00.006+02:00

We've been rushing around lately, finishing things we started last year (like this banister for the Play Yurt - it only took one and a half days; we just didn't have one and a half days until last week)...

Starting and finishing things before the first guests arrived (like this solar shower - the 14 tons of gravel in the background took most of the time, the hole goes down 60 cm with a 1% gradient from right to left)...

And starting things that must be finished before the end of the month (like this 18' 4" yurt platform, aka Platform 5, aka Mud Henge - which will have a yurt on it with guests in it this time in four weeks)...

So excuse me for not blogging much. Come July, we're going to rest for a day or so. Then I'm going to write a book, and make a road, and some rabbits runs, and a gazebo...

Weather postcast week ending 05/06

2011-06-05T09:46:00.002+02:00

Much more mixed last week, with many days of sun and temperatures in the high 20s, a couple of overcast days - and even the first bit of decent rain in MONTHS. Plus a couple of thunderstorms thrown in for good measure.

Clothing suggestions: This year's first guests largely wore shorts and T-shirts, and one sported a big hat. I should have worn my work trousers with knee pads instead of jeans while I was laying the bathroom floor, but that's easy to write in hindsight.

écovallée today

2011-05-29T19:59:00.001+02:00

That photo I was telling you about before (below):

Weather postcast week ending 29/05

2011-05-29T10:00:00.003+02:00

A week of varied weather for a change. Generally hot and sunny, with at least one day in the low 30s and two days that were actually overcast. Perfect for working outside (picture to follow). On one of those days we even had a few minutes of light rain.

Clothing required: Shorts, long trousers, T-Shirts, a hoodie or fleece, shades and/or a hat.

Weather postcast week ending 22/05

2011-05-22T08:26:00.002+02:00

Unbroken sunshine all week with temperatures warm to very warm. Suggested clothing: Shorts, T-shirts and sandals with a shirt for the evening at around 9 o'clock. I did actually buy a hat this week.

(I showed the kids my hat and Boy said: 'How did you make that?' I bought it, I told him. He said: 'Why?' Made us laugh.)

TW4

2011-05-16T21:51:00.005+02:00

That Was The Week That Was...

A week for making a tyre swing (US: tire swing):

Some planky bits:

Stepping stones (made out of wood):

A climbing frame-ladder-thing:

And a very long trench in very dry ground for water access to, and waste water from, the soon-to-be-installed solar shower:

This will be the week that will be installing that solar shower and doing some more filming with itv. Did I tell you we're going to be on the telly? Can't say much right now except I interview very badly. I babble. Who knew?

Weather postcast week ending 15/05

2011-05-15T09:04:00.002+02:00

A hot week in general, mostly in the mid 20sC, with one day reaching the mid 30s and two nights with rain and thunder. Yesterday evening it was cool enough to wear a jumper (US: sweater) but maybe only because we've been used to much higher temperatures.

Suggested clothing for last week: Shorts and T-shirts with jeans for the evening, and that jumper for yesterday. Or a shawl. There's nothing wrong with a shawl.

Weather postcast week ending 08/05

2011-05-08T09:26:00.004+02:00

Plenty of sun but not as hot as recent weeks during the day, with warmer mornings and evenings. A couple of days with some rain though not enough to make a serious impact on our butts. Yesterday was mostly overcast with a strong wind up at the Medieval Festival in Baneuil - enough to blow arrows off course even at short range.

Clothing required: Much like a good English summer, though no need for wellies or umbrellas. Lightweight chain mail, codpieces and pointy leather shoes for the very brave.

HOLIDAY PLANNING WARNING: This was the first medieval festival at Baneuil and it is not fixed in the calendar for next year. There are plenty of medieval festivals in the area throughout the summer with some better than others. More information may be available somewhere.

Baby photos

2011-05-06T17:26:00.008+02:00

We've had some new arrivals this week. Nine babies in the bunny ward:

Eight chicks (with more on the way) on the other side of the orchard:

And these little pigs born off-site and safely delivered to the woods:

Note the high security fencing here, outside of which three strands of electric fence, outside of which will be stock fencing. We don't have time to run through the woods chasing piglets this year. I would tell you more, but I don't even have time to do that.

Weather postcast week ending 01/05

2011-05-01T08:47:00.002+02:00

Cool mornings with loads of sun and plenty of heat from 10 or so. One spot of rain landed on my right forearm midweek, but it could have been something falling from a tree and fell from a cloudless sky. Still mild enough to drink red wine in the evenings.

If you'd been here, you'd have needed a fleece or hoodie for breakfast time, shades and shorts for the rest of the day. Or maybe a hat.

Masonic Lodgings

2011-04-26T16:46:00.003+02:00

We've had Mason Bees in the yurt these last few weeks. Looking for holes to fill with mud. (They're not fussy - I caught one trying to build a mud nest in the top of an envelope.)

In an effort to give them somewhere more suitable to do their thing, Her Outdoors and The Daughter found a mason bee house online you can buy for about €12. However, the website made the mistake of including a picture which I ripped off unashamedly for the cost of eight screws. Here it is (including a hole blocked up with mud):

Now you can rip it off from me.

Pyramid Orchid Day

2011-04-25T10:09:00.005+02:00

I'd forgotten all about the Pyramid Orchids, but it's great to see the first ones putting in an appearance this morning. Readers with OCD will be anxious to know that I took a photo of a Pyramid Orchid here on April 30th 2009 at 12:27:10, but it may have been flowering for 432,000 seconds before that.

Last week's weather

2011-04-25T08:04:00.002+02:00

Cool but not cold mornings until around 10, then mid-20s to 30C and sunny until the end of the day. Half a day of much-needed rain at one point and some wind.

WARNING: Past temperatures are no guarantee of future warmth. Your happiness may be at risk if you book a holiday or other activity secured upon them.

Golden Oriole

2011-04-22T12:39:00.002+02:00

For the digital record, Her Outdoors saw a Golden Oriole yesterday and we've heard it several times today. It's one of the most exotic sounds of the year.

Last week's weather

2011-04-17T11:18:00.002+02:00

Chilly mornings until 10 or 11, then sunny and warm or hot (mid 20s) and growing cooler in the evenings. Not a drop of rain.

Dress required: Long trousers and hoodie for both ends of the day, with shorts and sandals for the middle. Shades or a hat would be useful but I can't find mine anywhere.

Orchids 2011

2011-04-17T09:49:00.003+02:00

Looks like the White Helleborine where the old tyre swing used to be will open in the next day or so. How accurate is that?

UPDATE: There are two of them and they're both open now (April 20th).

Snappy photo update

2011-04-16T18:59:00.014+02:00

I've got to go and make dinner in a minute, so I'll make this quick.

Here's a shot of the treehouse I've been working on in the last couple of weeks for our kids:

Here's a detail of what you can do with mid-20th-Century coping saw and absolutely no training ever (in the background you can see our straw-bale grey-water system for the kitchen waste):

This is what the sand filter looks like this evening:

With mud taken from what will be a reed bed, above the willow trench, for the soon-to-exist solar shower:

Overlooked from a distance by some Lady Orchids:

And from a longer distance by a bunch of Early Purples (that I keep calling Purple Sprouting) by the veggie patch:

At the opposite end of which are some of those Burnt Orchids "anonymous" was interested in:

Round the corner from a field Her Outdoors has hand-sown with animal-feed crops for the coming winter:

Here's Luna, our probably pregnant bunny:

And Starsky, whose the daddy:

Near some guinea fowl you haven't seen yet:

And it'd be rude not to publish a cheeky photo of my Silky cock:

Right. That's it for now. Bye.

Orchid 'n' weather update

2011-04-10T15:35:00.007+02:00

In the last week, after putting in several days' effort on some impressive leafage, our first Lady Orchid flowered on the slope just below the pig woods. And today I saw some Burnt Orchids (a personal favourite - ridiculously beautiful) outside the polytunnel, which must have come up in the last few days.

Not quite as scientifically precise as scientists might want, but maybe they just need to get out of the lab more.

Weather-wise (bearing in mind we'll be open this time next year) this week has been mainly: Coldish mornings then baking hot every day, up to around 35C. This is Definitely Not Normal, unless it is, in which case next week's forecasted lower temperatures with a couple of showers may or may not be abnormal either.

I just can't do this science stuff.

Notes to self after butchery 2011

2011-04-04T15:43:00.003+02:00

I know I said in an earlier post that I can attach the nozzle to the front of the sausage machine to speed up the whole process, but I think I should ignore that next time. I think I might find it easier - and less effort, and certainly less sweary - if I mince the meat first, then add the breadcrumbs, herbs etc, then put it back through the machine into the skins. I'll let me know how this works out.

Also, I don't think I should worry too much about stripping out the tendons at the hock ends of the legs. Any bits that look like a lot of work can go into a delicious slow-cooked, fall-apart-in-the-mouth curry. Or rillettes.

Oh yes - I should cut the flare fat away before leaving the pig overnight. Makes things a bit easier the next day.

I probably shouldn't bother with the lean pork chunks - it makes for a fattier sausage mix. And while I'm on that point, I mustn't forget to put some belly aside for the sausages. I know bacon is delicious but recipes are recipes. And get some mace next time!

In for a penny

2011-03-29T09:10:00.003+02:00

Luke Seal started the year with 1p. His goal: to end up with something worth more than one penny by 2012.

Things went very well, very fast. He swapped the penny for some fish, some fish for a guitar, a guitar for a bike, the bike for £50, the cash for 10 square metres of Bulgaria and the land for a custom-made metal object.

Which is where we came in.

Readers of our website will know that, this year, guests will enjoy the luxury of a solar shower. Not some knocked-up arrangement using an old cast-iron radiator, a length of hose encased in plastic bottles or a dustbin painted black. Nor one of those hanging bags that leave your hair smelling like plastic and break before the end of the week. No no. We're going for a professionally made shower where the temperature can be controlled. (People wanting the more rustic experience can always pour a bucket of water over their heads. We just think they should have a choice.)

And even though most of our guests know each other very well, our new shower needs a cubicle.

Years ago, Her Outdoors designed a cubicle in the shape of a snail shell; it just needs to be held together by a custom-made metal object, like this:

Hmn.

Jumping on the idea like a small child on a trampoline, we proposed a week at écovallée in exchange for the custom-made object and, turning down a valuable wedding cake at the very last minute, Luke said Yes! Our object will be made by corner-of-a-field-in-Bulgaria owner Darren of Darad Fabrications in Atherstone and, if all goes to plan, brought down by friends at the end of the summer.

Our week in a yurt has since been exchanged for a portrait of a man who lost millions of pennies, made out of pennies, by artist Adrian Firth. For more details, take a look at Luke's superbly written blog here

Day of the orchid 2011

2011-03-27T18:30:00.003+02:00

There's nature blooming everywhere at the moment! Trees are budding, the hawthorne have turned a particularly lurid spring green, the grass is lush and just now, up by the tractor shed, I saw the year's first orchid. (I think it was waiting for the rain that started last night; it's been very dry.) A bit early to tell but it looks like an Early Purple. I'll take a photo when I get round to it.

If you can't wait till then, click on the orchid label below.

That relaxing French lifestyle

2011-03-25T18:31:00.005+01:00

It's been said by more than one visitor, and not just to us: "You're so lucky. You get to sit around in the sunshine drinking beer all day."

Hmn.

What visitors don't realise is that while it may be true that, at that particular moment, we are sitting in the sunshine drinking beer, it is only because the visitors are there. The rest of the time, we and (almost) all the Englanders I know are working our buttocks off. By way of an example, during the last three days, I've been turning an 18-foot yurt platform into a 19-foot yurt platform.

Here it was on Wednesday:

On Thursday:

And just now:

Meanwhile, between seeding and weeding the lower field, Her Outdoors has been indoors, making the cover to go on the yurt, thusly:

No sitting around drinking beer for her. (Not during the day anyway.) I did have a beer a few minutes ago but, for the record, I stood the whole time. No visitors, see?

Pain in the arse's Law

2011-03-21T16:42:00.003+01:00

Unfortunately, there is a Law that states: "Wherever you put a big pile of heavy stuff you don't want to move for a long time, or possibly ever again, is Always Only Just in Exactly the Wrong Place."

It has been demonstrated with a large number of heavy concrete blocks, large piles of rubble, tiles, gravel, wood and pretty much everything and anything else that needs a large space to occupy. The reason the piles are "Only Just" in the wrong place is that they invariably need to be moved a tiny bit one way or another. Sometimes both.

Today, I discovered that the Law can also apply to trenches, and have spent many hours moving a trench a few feet further East of the Shack. It's an alarming discovery.

A bit of a drain

2011-03-16T09:18:00.006+01:00

When we moved onto the land in July 2009, life became pretty basic. We slept on mattresses in the Play Yurt, had a bucket compost toilet next to this, a decrepit caravan 100 metres (100 yards) away down the field, with a drinking-water hose on one side and a two-ring camping stove for cooking, heating water for washing and washing-up set up under a gazebo on the other; and a few yards (metres) away, a table, chairs and a hammock.

Not much by western standards, but still far more luxurious than most of our fellow humans beings.

Although some friends and family were shocked by our living conditions, we knew that we had chosen this experience and every little thing we did would be a quality of life improvement. Some improvements - moving into an 18-foot yurt, beds, electricity, broadband access, a wood-burning stove, a hot water cylinder, a bath - were bigger than others; and they still go on happening.

Like drainage for the kitchen sink.

Yes, for nearly two years we have been throwing out our washing-up water by hand. Nearby plants and trees have loved this but, for us, it has been a bit of a drain. We put a large bucket under the kitchen sink which pretended to help but, after the handle broke off, probably made things harder.

Don't get me wrong. We knew what we had to do - we'd already done it in the guest kitchen nearly a year ago - it's just that our to-do list is very long, full of things like building yurt platforms, finishing the sand filter, making a play area, installing a solar shower, butchering a pig. With a yurt camp to worry about, our own comforts were bumped further and further down the list.

But a few days ago, I realised we were wasting valuable energy and time carrying water every day. A bit of effort now would pay back very quickly. So I knocked a hole in the kitchen wall, dug a bath from the tip into the ground, dug a trench from the bath along the front of the shack into the woods, filled the bath with layers of washed gravel, weed matting, washed sand, more gravel, some pipe with slits cut into it, made a hole in a brand new plasterer's bucket, filled it with straw and put this under the sink to act as a grease trap and - ta-da - our kitchen-sink-waste-water-carrying days are over.

Which may not sound like much, but it's already made a huge improvement to our quality of life. For the first time ever, I am actually enjoying washing-up by hand. Because I know that it can be much more tedious.

Life in the country

2011-03-10T18:27:00.002+01:00

Spent quite a tiring day driving a tractor up and down the field using the wrong tool (a "Canadienne") to try and prepare the ground for some maize we want to plant this spring for next winter's animal food; with a bit of sand filter work, hole digging and tree felling thrown in for good measure; and a short pause for a fairly healthy lunch in the sun.

But that's not why I'm putting keys to screen. It's because...

Just after lunch, I went to a nearby garage to buy some red diesel for the tractor. It's not a garage I go to much - perhaps twice in three years. I filled the jerry can, told the guy the price (it's one of those old-fashioned whirring dial things) and offered my debit card. Oh no, he says. Cash or cheque only.

Ah, says I. I'll have to go to the cash machine. Shall I leave the car?

No, he says. Take the car.

OK, I say. I'll be back in a few minutes.

And I was.

I'd make a rubbish criminal.

I really shouldn't be telling you this

2011-03-09T16:38:00.003+01:00

There is an unwritten rule about having a tractor on your property, which goes:

(Boing)

2011-03-08T15:42:00.003+01:00

That's the increasingly distant echo of the Spring that sprung a few weeks ago.

To be fair, I've been wishing it wasn't so. (I need winter to carry on just that little bit longer so I can butcher our remaining pig without worry about the flies.) But I can no longer ignore the signs: the snowdrops Her Outdoors planted have been and gone, the crocuses are still here (but only just) and the daffodils are showing distinct signs of wilting. The days are consistently warm and sunny, heralded by more and more delirious birds, the beeping Petit Duc owl has been announcing the need to procreate for a few weeks, the number of grue migrating to wherever they go for the summer is diminishing and the polytunnel is looking better than ever.

It seems early but nothing's certain in these days of climate change, earthquakes and revolutions. I'll log it here and come back and check next year. I'm glad I got the coppicing done.

A song in 24 hours

2011-02-28T10:54:00.002+01:00

Being involved in this was one of the most exciting things I've done in a long time.

Circle, by Eva & Manu

Now, back to the sand filter.

Rain stops play(ing outside)

2011-02-26T18:23:00.003+01:00

I didn't like the weather forecast earlier in the week. And sure enough, constant light rain meant we couldn't record the video outside today. To make up for it, Eva and Manu will play the song live on streaming following the filming tomorrow. I'll post the time and link as soon as I know what the weather is going to do. They're rehearsing it next to me right now and I can tell you it's a beauty.

Over to Eva and Manu

2011-02-25T08:58:00.003+01:00

Thank you to everyone for sending in your words. Let's see what Eva and Manu can do with them in the next 24 hours. (I'm glad I'm not a songwriter today!)

In the meantime, you can visit their blog and hear what they've written so far on their epic European tour... here.

Come back tomorrow and see what you've done...

Ecovallée 24-hour songwriting event starts... NOW

2011-02-23T17:25:00.010+01:00

By this time tomorrow, you could be part of an international songwriting sensation. Let me explain.

The musicians

We have a couple of musicians staying with us right now, who are travelling around Europe in a campervan writing their first album together. They are called Eva and Manu and they look like this:

They are not new to songwriting. They both went to Berklee College of Music in Boston (which is a pretty big deal actually - ex-Berklee students can be found all over your iPod). Manu has already released one album and Eva has five or six to her name.

The idea

While I was working in the woods yesterday, I thought it would be very cool to have Eva and Manu write a song while they're here. To add a little spice, I thought maybe they should write it in 24 hours. And because social media is doing such amazing things in the world at the moment, I thought maybe everyone else could write the words.

They said yes. Now it's your turn.

The rules

a) In the next 24 hours, you can leave one word in the comments section under this blog post. (If you are shy, you can send an email instead. And if you can't choose one word, send a couple - just don't go mad.)
b) At 0900 tomorrow morning (French time), I will give the words to Eva and Manu. They will then have just 24 hours to write the song. This will be filmed and posted here immediately.

Got that? You and your friends write the words. Eva and Manu write the song. If it's good enough, it could even be on the album.

I am going to start the whole thing off with the word: Hands.

Here we go again

2011-02-17T14:14:00.003+01:00

The lorry came back with sand for the sand filter:

I wonder what the French is for déjà vu.

Beginning to get the hang of some things

2011-02-15T09:08:00.004+01:00

A few months ago, the woods behind the Shack were utter chaos. I'd started coppicing the sweet chestnut so we'd have wood for next winter and, in five to seven years, a steady supply of poles for fencing, yurt maintenance, firewood, furniture and whatever else we decide to have a go at.

But I didn't have a clue what I was doing. So I would cut an overstood chestnut down, chop the generally straight trunk into two-ish-metre lengths and leave the awkward top bits lying around. Often, I would work until I was too tired to lift the chainsaw and so bits of trunk would be lying around too - hither and, to my shame, thither. Which meant at some stage I would have to go back in later with a billhook and tidy up.

That stage came a few weeks ago and closed a chapter on this silly, knees-bent-running-around working practice.

Now, when I go in to cut coppice, I take a chainsaw AND a billhook - and tidy up as I go. Seems simple, doesn't it? (I also stop a few minutes before I am exhausted.) I suspect, with a not very sad backward glance, I may be growing up.

Here's what the woods behind the shack look like now:

The mud on the left in the foreground is one edge of what will be the pond. The box on the right there is full of Interesting Rocks found while digging out a tree stump for the pond and trench for the pipe running from the sand filter. Got some real beauties in there, I can tell you.

Oh look, it's nearly February

2011-01-30T18:07:00.007+01:00

OK, so I haven't been keeping you up to date.

Some of it's been illness (note to self - expect to be ill for about a week in mid-Jan - that's two years in a row now).

Some of it's been the gripping Millennium series of books I finished last night (finished reading, sadly, not writing).

Some of it's been that I haven't had the energy to blog, after a hard day in the sand filter.

Then there's the distraction of having someone turn up out of the blue to tell us about a new French law banning (yes, banning, on pain of destruction in 48 hours) people from living in yurts, caravans, mobile homes etc., that prompted a meeting with the mayor to find out where we stand and to tell her that we always intended to build a house and would she support our planning application, to which she replied that the new law didn't really apply to us and was aimed at people camping on land illegally but that she would support our planning application.

And a load of other stuff.

But I can tell you that this lorry arrived on Friday...

To deliver this pile of gravel...

That we can put in this hole...

The spoil for which has made this pond...

All before the end of February.

(T)raining

2011-01-06T16:11:00.007+01:00

A couple of years ago, I was pushing a wheelbarrow of wood up a hill from a woodpile inconveniently located 100 metres away from the beautiful farmhouse we were staying in at the time (which probably qualifies for the longest opening sentence on this blog - but that's not important right now).

It wasn't the first wheelbarrow of wood I'd pushed that day, or the last that winter. Wood is heavy, the hill is steep and I was pretty tired.

Coming down the hill was an English guy I know, who chuckled and said: "Good training".

Training? I thought. I wasn't training, I was doing. And what kind of thing would that be good training for? Pushing bricks uphill?

That said, we've burst into the unlikely sounding year 2011. The rain was good enough to stop, which allowed me to get back into the sand filter and re-start digging out the bottom to the required depth. By hand. Which, you'll know if you've read many of these screens, is the way we do pretty much everything around here. After a few hours' work, the sand filter looked like this:

And the spoil went down the slippery slope to start forming the edge of what will be a beautiful woodland pond, encouraging wildlife we don't currently have, and a splattering of aquatic plants. I'm telling you this because, at the moment, it looks a bit rubbish:

I'm also telling you this because the rain has started again and is due to be with us for many days. Which means I have to find jobs that can be done in the wet - strimming, coppicing etc. - one of which is to move a few tons of rubble and spoil from outside our yurt.

It needs to be done and, curiously, is good training for moving the 42 tons and sand and gravel that need to be put into sand filter once it's empty.

Drip, drip, drip

2010-12-20T09:42:00.006+01:00

That's the sound I heard in the bathroom the other day. And no, it wasn't coming from me.

I followed the sound across the room, behind the sink, down to the floor and beyond - out of sight. Fortunately, I took this photo while we were building the bathroom last year:

So I had a pretty good idea what was going on. One of those shiny expensive joints on the left wasn't doing its job. Which meant my job for the day instantly became: Take out the bath, lift the floor, cut the pipes and pull the joints up above floor level, replace the floor and the bath, tighten the joints, buy even more expensive (and lovely because they actually work) push-fit joints and put it all back together again.

It's the kind of unexpected sunny day project that makes writing the book I mentioned in my last post less and less likely (what with building a second guest yurt platform, solar shower, road, sand filter, French drain etc etc before we open again next year).

Ah well.

What a ride

2010-12-17T16:19:00.002+01:00

I just read the blog from start to finish, because I've decided to write a book over the winter months.

Blimey.

Talk about a rollercoaster.

Unexpected rainy day project

2010-11-25T15:38:00.003+01:00

It's been raining a lot recently. So aside from digging out a few tree stumps for the new guest yurt platform, raking leaves into piles to rot down for a year or two, fencing the horse field, building a brash hedge from blackthorn to keep out the Chasse (after one of our pigs was brought down by two cute-looking terriers), moving gravel to keep down the mud, building kitchen cabinets, coppicing the woodland behind our yurt, collecting water containers to catch the rain, hay to feed the horse and all that fun stuff, we've redesigned and rewritten the website. Which now looks like this.

Dull it never is, this life we have chosen.

End of October update

2010-10-29T18:16:00.005+02:00

This week, Her Outdoors has been adding to the clay oven, which had a door cut into the side of it (at the regulation 63% of interior height measurement) and a new layer of clay, this time mixed with straw. Right now it looks like this:

Slightly OCD readers will be alarmed that the image on the Sand Filter Cam has not changed all week. This has been due to a technical fault genuinely beyond our control and - besides - it rained at the weekend and the mud has been too treacherous to dig out. Happily, it's dry enough to move now. Unhappily, it's going to start raining again in the next couple of hours.

But I've kept myself busy clearing a space for the pond the sand filter will run into, turning some overstood chestnut into firewood for next winter, at the same time (and this really is exciting) creating our first coppiced area of managed woodland. It looks a bit devastated at the moment, but will spring back to life in the appropriately named season.

While felling these largely dead and dying trees, I did spend time thinking about the current UK government's idea about selling off half the nation's forests. I didn't come to any conclusions, but think they should have the decency to call a snap election and give everyone a chance to kick them into touch. Buffoons.

Big Project: Big Hole (containing a fiendish revelation about one woman's involvement in building the Great Pyramid at Giza)

2010-10-20T18:03:00.014+02:00

If you've been following my tweets over the last two days (and why the hell should you - what's with this twitter thing anyway - I, for one, don't get it), you'll know I've been working on a hole. You don't need to imagine it - it looks like this:

It's not a new hole. In fact, a friend with a JCB started it last year and left it looking like this:

Perhaps I wouldn't have been smiling quite so broadly if I knew about the next few weeks I would spend with a pick and shovel making it the shape it was supposed to be (5m x 5m x 1.10m to be exact) before finding out we couldn't afford the €1,400 of sand and gravel we needed to fill the hole back up again. Which meant leaving it over the winter, and watching the walls collapse a little, and wondering what was going to happen next.

It became one of the Great Unfinished Projects.

What happened next was some excellent news of an inward investment nature. Which meant the Sand Filter (not the Swimming Pool as some guests guessed) could go ahead at last. But before we could fill it with sand and gravel, we needed to know how deep it needed to be. Which meant digging a trench from the sceptic tank...

...and taking a measurement. I then started to level off the bottom of the hole before realising my measurement was 10cm out, and the whole hole had to go that much deeper. Which brings me in a roundabout way to the point I am trying to make about the Great Pyramid at Giza.

When you're digging a Very Big Hole by Hand, you have to minimise the amount of energy expended. I started with the wheelbarrow thuswise...

...hoofing (if I can be technical for a moment) the claysandy soil from 110cm below ground level up into the air to land in the barrow without knocking it over, and without spilling too much outside the barrow which would have to be picked up again.

After a day of this, I thought: Surely it would be better to have the barrow in the hole with me, and have a ramp leading out of the hole. I would expend less energy hoofing the soil through the air and, half-filling the barrow, would possibly save energy in the long run (we're talking about several cubic metres of soil, here). I tried it for a while...

...and realised the ramp would get slippery and dangerous very fast.

Then Her Outdoors suggested knocking a hole through the side of the hole (which needed to be there eventually, for drainage) and driving the wheelbarrow through the wall at ground level. A curiously female and alarmingly sensible idea, which looks like this:

I will never know how long it would have taken for me to arrive at this solution. I was going to go back to the wheelbarrow-on-high and would have sweated and strained until it was time to dig the hole in the wall. Which is why I think a woman must have been involved in building the pyramids.

The first row of stones would have been pretty straightforward, being rolled along the ground in time-honoured style. The next row, I imagine, would have involved dozens of men with some stout hemp rope pulling stones from ground level; straining away, getting awesomely fit in the process. Or maybe someone invented a complex-looking pulley device that struck wonder into visitors from across the known world.

Over dinner, I can picture one woman asking the Chief Engineer why he didn't just build a gentle ramp and roll the stones into place. I know the pause that would have followed this suggestion. I've lived that pause many times.

Fiendishly clever, these women.

How to make our clay oven

2010-10-16T10:02:00.012+02:00

Lots of people build clay ovens. This week, we started ours by marking out a circle on the ground:

Building a circle of stones using dry-stone-wall skills, with a thin layer of lime mortar to hold them in place (and stop hornets nesting in the cracks):

Completing the stone circle (which is filled with rubble that's been sitting around up here looking untidy):

Laying some sand on the top to get it Really Flat, and placing some fire bricks (which have also been sitting around for a while) on top:

Making the inside shape of the oven, using bought sand that will be re-used later:

Covering it with newspaper:

Building up the first layer using our own clay and some more of that sand:

And finishing it just before dark:

We couldn't have done this so fast without our new friends Ben and Anna who, for the second time this year, stayed an extra night because they couldn't tear themselves away.

(Obviously, this wasn't the only thing we did this week. We also cut, split and stacked a huge amount of wood, and dug a Very Important Trench. But it wasn't all lazing around, enjoying the Relaxing French Lifestyle - we also ate great food, drank excellent wine, and stayed up far too late, far too often.)

An attempt at natural magic. Drum roll please.

2010-10-06T16:47:00.012+02:00

One of this winter's Very Big Jobs is to cut a road through the woods. It's hard for me to spin this as eco friendly, so I won't even try, but almost every tree I have cut down has been acacia, which is very fast-growing, incredibly strong, and perfect for fenceposts, steps etc.

But before we began, we had to locate a disused water pipe running between the Shack and the new pumping station. We should cut the pipe, the man from the Water Services said, on both sides of the access road and take the pipe out of the ground. I failed to find the pipe using their metal detector, so I did what any other rational person would do: I dowsed for it.

To dowse, simply destroy a perfectly good metal coat-hanger, create two L-shapes and stand quietly for a moment, holding a precisely framed question in your mind. (At least, I think that's what you do - I know there are books on it, but I have't read them). Then walk forwards slowly and wait for the rods to cross. Which they do.

(On doing this, I felt sure this is where the 'X marks the spot' expression comes from.)

I repeated the exercise a number of times, asking for the exact centre of the pipe. Then I started to dig for it. Eventually, when I had dug up to my armpit, I found this:

Which is just a hole. Disappointing, sure, but no great loss. Because a short time later, like a DIY episode of Time Team, a JCB arrived:

After just a few scoops, he found this:

Which is just another hole, only bigger. Disappointing, yes - and confusing. You see, I got Her Outdoors to check my dowsing with hers, and her rods crossed at EXACTLY the same points as mine - on both sides of the road. Which begs the question: What had we found?

It certainly wasn't the water pipe, which was discovered about 12 feet away from where we thought it was; and way more than an arm's reach into the ground:

Confused.

And while we're on the subject of steps

2010-10-06T16:27:00.006+02:00

This is what I've been doing for the last two days with our new HelpXer:

I call it: "A path".

Let's. Do. The yurt. Move. Again.

2010-09-30T16:47:00.007+02:00

The yurt we've been living in since Autumn last year needed to make a jump to the left (or a step to the right). Here's how you can do it at home.

Move 1
Put some concrete blocks in place, make sure they're level, and paint some blackjack on them to stop moisture rising. Like this:

Move 2
After the heavy rain, stand on the blocks until they stop sinking, pack out and arrange your joists, thusly:

Move 3
Nail your boards across the joists and treat with oil, this-wise:

Move 4
Screw your marine ply around the platform, hereuntoafter:

Move 5
And stick your yurt on it, like so:

(This last move can take longer than anticipated, as with all the previous moves.)

A bubbling sound and then... nothing.

2010-09-28T12:46:00.008+02:00

You may have read, somewhere in the archives, how I killed my tractor. But to save you looking for the details, it went something like this:

o I stalled the tractor while cutting some grass.
o Before I re-started it, I thought I might as well check the oil level, which I'd never done. It read: "DANGEROUSLY LOW".
o I bought some oil. But not straight away. Which meant the tractor sat where it was for a while.
o I added the oil. But I still didn't start the tractor. Because one of the tyres has no thingymajig in the wotsit. Which means it needs pumping up once a month (to save the tyre becoming dangerously low, too). But I didn't have a portable compresser to put the air in. And in an effort to save €50, I waited for my friend Claude (who does have one) to drop by. He didn't drop by any time soon. So the tractor sat there for a while longer.
o I bought a compressor and put air back into the tyre.
o I tried to start the engine. There was a bubbling sound and then... nothing.

Over the next year or so, I conferred with a number of people on what had probably happened. And the conclusion was: rain.

You see, my tractor has a vertical exhaust pipe. It turns out this is a very good way of catching rain. And while the tractor had been sitting there all that time, it had rained quite a lot - as much as several inches, to be imprecise.

When I tried to start the tractor, some kind of suction had drawn water into the engine, mortally wounding it. It might have survived if I'd contacted my friend Claude straight away. But I didn't get him to look at the engine for about a year. By which time, it was a solidly ex-tractor. I felt terrible. The engine is a couple of years older than me. And it had died for want of an empty baked-bean tin (or equivalent) placed over the top of the exhaust.

It is one of the most expensive mistakes I have ever made.

So when I borrowed a tractor from a neighbour a few weeks ago, I was at pains to assure him that I would put something over the top of his equally vertical exhaust, in the event of rain.

Bernard's tractor is magnificent. Me and Ed (one of this year's last and loveliest guests) loaded several tons of rocks into the bucket on the back, which can be emptied by pulling a handle. In one afternoon, we moved the equivalent of about 80 wheelbarrows of rock from one side of écovallée to the other, in preparation for the new road and parking area.

But as I haven't come close to making you aware, that wasn't the only thing we've had to do recently. With the arrival of our two first (and equally lovely) HelpXers, our winter yurt platform leapt to the top of the list.

We cleared the site, dug away some hillside and put recovered concrete blocks into the ground, despite the rain (which was only really heavy one night).

A couple of days ago, I woke up early in the morning. I wondered why I had woken up and then... panicked. Because despite my promises to Bernard - despite a very expensive and easily avoidable lesson - I hadn't put anything over the exhaust of his tractor.

I went down to the field, hoping that I had reversed the tractor into the woods far enough to stop the rain getting in. Or that a leaf had blown down to sit perfectly over the exhaust, saving me the cost of a re-build for which I would have to sell... something.

No such luck. The exhaust was open to the air, inviting all interested precipitation to enter and travel down the manifold straight into the engine.

I worried.

I resolved to call Claude and get his advice. But I still worried. And I thought it would be outrageous for me to get my tractor doctor in to strip someone else's engine, without that someone knowing anything about it.

So I took half a dozen eggs round to Bernard's house and confessed my stupidity.

He took it very well, as it goes. He told me not to worry and said he'd come round the next day and have a look. Which was yesterday.

We walked across the field towards the potentially stricken machine. He climbed in, sat on the tractor, turned the key and... no problems at all. Started first time. (TFFT.)

I think I've learnt my lesson now.

Canvas yurt covers: The disappointing truth

2010-09-13T15:18:00.006+02:00

Let's go back for a moment to 2006/7.

Her Outdoors put a lot of work into finding the right kind of canvas for our yurts. She talked to lots of people (they weren't always very forthcoming about their suppliers - not surprising as yurts were really taking off at the time and canvas was in increasingly short supply). She looked at lots of websites. And she settled on the unbleached 12-ounce 'waterproof, rot-proof, flame-proof canvas' everyone was using.

Sounds very reasonable. I can't see why anyone would do anything different.

We ordered hundreds of metres (yards) of the stuff, from two different suppliers. Her Outdoors made a cover for our first 18-foot yurt, we put it in the trailer and off we went.

If you've read this blog from the beginning (or the end, depending on which way you look at it), you may remember that August 2007 was very wet when we arrived in France. Very wet - outside and inside the yurt. So wet, we sought shelter in a house and Her Outdoors began to doubt her skills. Which are considerable (and award-winning).

Time passed.

We built the 12-foot Play Yurt and Her Outdoors made a cover. We moved into it. It rained. The cover leaked. And started to rot. (Waterproof, rot-proof, flame-proof, remember?)

We put the original 18-foot up for extra storage. It leaked a bit less. And was a bit less mouldy.

We put a new 18-foot up on a lovely dry beaten earth platform, with canvas from the second manufacturer. Just before a rainstorm. Which went straight through the cover, almost like it wasn't there.

Her Outdoors made a few calls. Here's one:

Professional yurt cover maker 1: 'Ah yes - 2007 was the worst year to buy canvas - the rot-proofing was water soluble. They've made some improvements.'

Here's another:

Professional yurt cover maker 2: 'Oh yes - you need to re-proof your canvas before you use it. Twice if you can. Otherwise it leaks. We'll send you some proofing, but you won't need any seam-sealer.'

More research revealed people who live in yurts full-time do not use canvas. (Which, among other things, needs replacing EVERY COUPLE OF YEARS.) Everyone's using some kind of manmade material, like polycotton, which costs many, many times more but will last for up to 10 years. (If you really need to know, use the comments thing below and I'll get Her Outdoors to give you all the details.)

Now, call me old-fashioned if you must, but if you sell something as 'waterproof' and 'rot-proof', it should be those things. The 12-foot cover rotted so badly, Her Outdoors had to make a new one before we could open this year. It lasted a few months (which would have cost 1250 GBP if made professionally - no wonder other yurt camps cost so much).

Last week, it rained for the first time since July. Again, inside as well as outside our yurt (we re-proofed the guest yurt and Play Yurt at the start of the season and they held up pretty well. We couldn't re-proof our yurt 'cos the material was so new, the proofing ran off - yes, it's actually proof-proof).

We found how the water was coming in - and will be ordering some seam sealer in the next few days.

The month ahead

2010-09-02T15:11:00.003+02:00

Lots of excitement in the coming days and weeks:
o The return of a Big Machine.
o A lunatic up a tree.
o Some natural magic.

Not necessarily in that order. But all (which will come as a relief to the hard of reading) with pictures.

This is why I wear gloves

2010-08-26T11:16:00.000+02:00

Two secrets of the meedja

2010-08-25T14:58:00.006+02:00

SECRET THE FIRST
A few months ago, I learnt something about those moving overseas-type TV shows. And the thing I learnt was this: They're filmed in reverse.

(Don't worry TV people, hardly anyone reads this blog.)

Essentially, the programme makers find someone who's recently moved into a new property; films them there, having settled in; films them looking at other properties in the same price bracket; films them umming and ahhing; films them in England, going about their previous life; and cuts it all together backwards.

Makes perfect sense - you could probably do the whole show in a weekend.

(This is where any TV producer reading this spits their extra-shot latte over their keyboard, exclaiming: 'A weekend! I haven't had that much time since the 80s!')

It amuses me to wonder how often the TV companies find more attractive properties than the one people actually chose - look in their eyes next time you see a show like this. I would, but we don't have a TV any more.

SECRET THE SECOND
Today, I learnt something about the newspaper game. And that thing is: They make it up as they go along.

Some Sundays past, a journalist from an English language newspaper in France asked to come round for a chat. They were writing about yurts and wanted to talk to someone who lives in one, and has come up against some of the bureaucratic issues involved.

So I chatted. We chatted. We drank elderflower champagne. It was nice.

Today, my inbox shows me a pdf of the article that's already gone to press. Not the discreet, background information, no-names jobbie I was expecting. No. Quite a large piece with two photos of me (including one with Her Outdoors), riddled with inaccuracies and generously garnished with words I never said. Or more accurately, words I never said in that order.

I have to say, it doesn't amuse me very much at all.

Life without refrigeration

2010-08-19T14:41:00.004+02:00

It was probably my fault.

Last week, I remember cramming some rabbit halves into the downstairs bit of our fridge-freezer, ignorant of the fact I was supposed to leave space clear around the fan at the back. (I didn't even know there was a fan at the back. I've written instruction manuals from time to time, but haven't read many.)

The device made uncharacteristic noises for a day or so, and then began to lose its cool.

Of course, I panicked.

I shot into Bergerac and spent a large-ish amount of money on a small-ish A+ chest freezer (which we needed anyway, having taken up space in two friends' freezers since butchering the last pig in the Spring). Then I read (see how quickly things change - suddenly I'm reading already) that our new freezer needed to sit for 24 hours before being turned on; and left for another 58 hours to get down to temperature.

Argh.

So I borrowed some space in a neighbour's freezer (they're on holiday and I had the key - they'll never know) to save our precious meat and started to cool down myself.

Since then, we've re-discovered how dependent we are on refrigeration. The emergency coolbox and freezer blocks have been fine up to a point, but without a spring nearby, there's no ready supply of cold beers and instantly drinkable rosé. Carrots go off remarkably quickly when left on the kitchen table. There's no sense in buying dairy products in any quantity (once again, exposing our lack of goat or access to cow). And the dumping ground on top of the freezer is valuable space our small kitchen feels even smaller without (especially as the new chest freezer is in there, behind the door, where a useful work surface used to be).

The good news is, the fridge-freezer has probably been fixed and may even be sitting in the kitchen right now (I'm at work for the day). The other good news is, we have the chest freezer that marks another step (bizarrely) down the road to self sufficiency. And finally, we had enough money to get through the emergency.

Now, if I can only get the phone working again, we'll have it all.

A down-to-earth celebration

2010-08-18T18:42:00.001+02:00

Surely there should be some way of marking the fact that we arrived in France three years ago today.

A spectacular meal with all our own food, perhaps; to show how far we've come down the road to self sufficiency. Pate with home-made bread to start, maybe, followed by pork bolognaise with pasta made from our own eggs, then tart with home-made jam, summer pudding, or crepes flambéed in a friend’s do-not-drink-under-any-circumstances eau de vie?

Sadly not.

You see, we’re a bit knackered today, after a yesterday spent canoeing down the river from Siorac to Limeuil, followed by dinner in the square at the marche nocture in Mauzac, followed by a film outdoors next to the abbey in Cadouin (all after taking care of our own animals and the neighbour’s veggie patch and house while they are away).

So we’ll have to make do with a bottle of our own very excellent elderflower champagne. The good life's not so bad, really.

Stay in a yurt for free*

2010-08-10T15:17:00.003+02:00

*But only if you're prepared to wake up at a reasonable time of day and work surprisingly hard, digging, weeding, pushing wheelbarrows, making paths, clearing woodland to encourage healthy growth, fencing, yurt platform building and doing some of the other jobs that need doing over the autumn and winter months.

Yes. After the last guests leave on September 18th, the guest yurt will be free for you, people like you and people you like to come and help us continue to build écovallée. Youth, fitness and strength would all be a bonus. But seeing as we started this with none of those things, are not compulsory.

As soon as we get the paperwork sorted out, we'll be registering as WWOOFing hosts. But as there's a very good chance you'll be reading this before that happens, you're one of the first to know. We can put you up and feed you but, as we're still fantastically poor and you're probably English, couldn't possibly pay your booze bill. Fortunately, very good wine is available from the "Cave" 500 metres (yards) away.

If you're interested, send us an email. If you know anyone who might be interested - especially tree surgeons, gardeners, geologists, carpenters, biologists, blacksmiths, scythers (I can dream, can't I?) - send them an email instead.

(In the time-honoured traditions of anglo-saxon advertising, here comes the time-limited bit...) But don't leave it too long. From April 2nd 2011, we'll be welcoming the first of next year's fabulous paying guests.