Tales From the Green Valley Article

Chloe Spencer | Home

The Valley - A Personal Account

Gentle and informative, pastoral, lyrical, charming, seductive. All words used by reviewers of Tales from the Green Valley. Of course real life is never quite as idyllic as it is painted, but it was never far off. Certainly the setting of the farm was one of the most beautiful places I’d ever seen. Tucked away on a Welsh hillside, the farm itself couldn’t actually be seen easily from any angle of approach. In this lies its beauty, as although a public footpath runs down one side of the site, and indeed through it at one point, it was very rarely visited and consequently survived a year of farming, filming and constant activity with remarkably little damage. The overall atmosphere on the farm was peaceful and quiet, with traffic noise unheard of and the only interruption from the outside world the occasional tractor on a neighbouring farm or the donkey in the village at the bottom of the hill.

In this setting we found ourselves adapting very quickly to the period way of life. How much easier to stop work and relax at dusk, when there is no ambient light and noise to keep you awake and make you think you should still be working because other people are? How idyllic to simply lie back and gaze at the stars, secure in the knowledge that you have completed all you can for a day and anything else will have to wait until tomorrow? Admittedly there were days which saw all of us at one time or another out until late into the evenings madly trying to finish a job before full darkness fell, be it ploughing a field by hand, thatching a roof or simply trying to find the cows in the dark to get them into shelter.

One of the things I found most refreshing was the straightforward approach to the division of labour. If there was a job which required something very heavy lifting, you asked the boys to help (or to do it for you, depending on their mood). If they were busy in the fields, you got on preparing the food so they would have something to eat when they came in, and you finished the day to day jobs such as mucking out. These jobs, although not gender specific, were more suited to females as they were not particularly physically demanding and could be done quickly, freeing up the men to get on with the more challenging tasks.

I will admit I found it frustrating at times to be stuck in the cowshed while the boys were out learning new skills, but at the end of the day, it’s a rough job but someone’s got to do it. One of the things which is regularly overlooked in modern life is the issue of responsibility. If you own an animal you have to look after it, or it will die. The animal depends on you for its life, liberty and happiness. It becomes your responsibility, which is very often a huge burden as it can curtail your social life and put a lot of strain on you. We all get bad days of just not wanting to get out of bed, but if that cowshed needs mucking out, it has to be done, and no-one else is going to do it for you.

But the good points regularly eclipsed the bad. The two yearling ponies, bought straight off Dartmoor and hardly handled when we arrived, were two of my favourite animals there. The first few times I met them I came away from the encounter with a ripe bruise on my right buttock as a parting shot from the chestnut, named Quickthorn. Rowan, the bay, had a nice line in biting. It took very little time and a lot of bribery to get these two to eat from my hand, and gradually to come when they were called. By late spring I had a breakthrough with Quickthorn, sitting in the field with her asleep with her head on my lap. This still represents one of the most magical moments for me. The second was undoubtedly the bluebell blush over two of the fields, which was so thick that when viewed from a distance looked like smoke.

The hardest part of the year was without question the winter, but not for the most obvious reason of the weather. The most difficult thing was the effect the season had on everybody’s moods. The short days and long nights meant we spent much longer in each other’s company, and living and working together 24/7 is never easy at the best of times. The situation of the farm, high on a hillside, meant that often we would spend the day in a thick mist through which it was almost impossible to see further than 10 feet in front of you. On days like this you felt very isolated and lonely, and this added to the general feeling of malaise which descended over the winter. It was easy to see why the Christmas period brought so many people to depression. Inner city life tends to buffer you from this, as the atmosphere is well lit and you are constantly surrounded by people, you are less aware of the change in the natural environment and the gradual loss of life around you.

However, even winter had its plus points. A series of fantastic snowfalls meant the place was transformed, it became utterly beautiful and alien and everyone’s spirits lifted. The births of the first two calves provided a welcome counter against the seasonal despondency, and gradually things began to perk up, especially once we all came to terms with the fact that spring was well and truly on its way. The most major job of the winter for the boys was shifting the mud from the gateway to enable us to actually get in and out of the site. Roughly 8 tonnes of mud were moved by Alex and Fonz, with spades and a wheelbarrow, in less than a week, and the result was another lightening of the mood.

Harnessing up the ex-pit pony was an all-new experience for me. I have plenty of background work with horses, but all of it is with riding horses. I had never even handled a modern harness, let alone knowing where to start with a collar and a few ropes. Using modern examples and pictures from the period I was able to cobble together something which, if it wouldn’t have stood up to high weights and strains, at least did the trick. In retrospect it probably would have been more economical to get a proper harness made up to go with the collar, but needs must when the devil drives. She was an interesting horse to work with, as with all mares she had a very clear idea of what she would and wouldn’t do (give me a gelding any day), but this was often a plus point as she was very good at her job. For example, she had an uncanny knack of knowing when a knot was about to come undone – if only we’d paid attention we could have saved ourselves a lot of grief!

In all, the year was a life-changing experience for me. I made some decisions about my life which I haven’t yet regretted, and came out of it with a very different outlook. Learning new skills is always refreshing and challenging, and applying modern skills in a period environment is a rewarding task. The huge satisfaction taken from seeing a job well done was always magnified because everything took that little bit longer than it would if simple things like a hose and an electric drill had been available. An open minded approach was essential right from the start, but I found my limits being tested and my mind blown wide open by the whole experience.

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