Going West
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"The chickens learned to wear fox-proof underpants." Some surprises were in store for Michelle when she moved from London to rural Wales.
Transcript
"I first saw the house on a sunny November day and I knew instantly that it was mine. There was no heating, no hot water, the whole place was drenched in damp and stank of incontinent sheep and I loved it.
Wyndham sold us the house. He was a loud-mouthed opinionated sheep farmer who nurtured his neighbourhood disputes with the same care he lavished on his ailing lambs, and I instantly liked him. He stomped around the fields with huge noisy energy and I was staggered to find he was 70 years old. Then I met the lad who helped him with his fencing - 82 year old Geraint.
We soon adapted to a life of digging, building and living in absolute filth.
The bathroom was a bit gloomy. We still had a little light dusting to do. The weather was not always great. Our dress sense suffered ... but our toilet was featured in a local history book. After the sudden death of our cockerel, the chickens learned to wear fox-proof underpants.
We couldn't quite get to grips with the local bartering rates - six of our eggs bought us a bottle of vodka but a bag of spinach produced a tractor load of cow dung.
We were surprised and delighted when our neighbouring farmers invited us over for Christmas drinks. We warmed ourselves at their enormous fire and listened round-eyed as they informed us of the correct way to iron a goose (through a damp tea-towel apparently). Makes them easier to pluck.
We staggered home that night drunk and laughing and found a feed sack tied with twine outside the back door. Inside was a large (and rather peeved) cockerel - a Christmas present from Wyndham. The cockerel glared at me beadily and I started laughing again.
I'd travelled a lot further than just 200 miles from a flat in East London."
An interview with the author
Please tell us a little about yourself.
Self-employed gardener and conservationist. Lived in Wales for four years. Trying to learn Welsh for three years - slow progress! Pleased to say, I have never ironed a goose.
What's your story about?
Moving into a freezing cold hovel in west Wales and loving every minute of it. Ceiling fell down, three-day rain of dead flies, doing the washing-up in coat, scarf and hat, chasing a goose across the A487 and still loving it!
Why did you choose to tell this particular story?
Because I enjoy it so much - the local people, the house, the work and the life. I love the bizarre incidents that happen on a regular basis in the rural community.
What did you find most rewarding about the workshop?
Stories popped up everywhere - all week long I kept hearing new stories. It was like a convention of Jackanory presenters!
Your comments
"Brilliant story, it left me wanting to see and hear more. I am sure there is a book in there."
Kathryn Wood, Cheshire, England."I Loved it, it's brilliant! I want to know more now!"
Rachel Crombie, Tattershall, Lincolnshire."This story is very good. I enjoyed seeing the lifestyles that people put themselves through for the end result to be fantastic ... Im sure and hope everything would work out for this woman."
Samantha Robert, Ontario, Canada.
