Best Wishes for 2014!

Many thanks to those of you who sent us news and good wishes in emails, seasonal cards, and letters. We read them with pleasure, every one. Some even brightened the dark days of winter at LSF. :-)

Introductory

You will be reading this in 2014. But, as many a wise person has said, in order to move on to the next thing in life, it ́s no bad thing to review the last. Know your history in order to better plan your future. So, here’s a bit about our recent history.

It was a great year, both busy and beautiful, with fine people, exciting projects, and excellent events, the most recent and memorable of which was Carols by Candlelight. This is an event that brings people together to celebrate and sing and to raise money for Swindon’s homeless at Christmas. Each year, it seems more magical and meaningful than the last. And, though plenty of work, it’s such a simple formula.

Just to have our old puddle-patched drive and fowl- friendly farmyard all a-twinkle, with candles and night- lights in coloured jam jars, is a joy. Walking up the candlelit drive towards the sparkling tree, roaring fire, and people of all ages in their winter woollies clutching hot mulled wine, is something special in itself and signals the start of the season of goodwill. Isn’t that nice? And then, to go into the big ex-cowshed to watch a home-made shadow play, hear a super scratch choir, see a fabulous fairy, and sing cartloads of Carols, together. Well, that’s joy unconfined.
And it was.

Incident – as recorded by Matt

It’s 27th January 2013 and just another Sunday evening at LSF. The snow and ice have gone. It’s dark and wet outside. Two new wwoofers have arrived from France. They barely speak any English. Andrea’s away on bread-making course. Nickie’s relaxation and yoga group arrives and make their way up to the Hayloft. I am just out of my formal town cloths after a long, cold but meaningful Holocaust Memorial Day in Swindon. There are things to do. So I ask the French if they could cook supper while I get on with fires, coal buckets, pigs, chickens, and phone messages. At about 6pm, I’m in the office, when a sudden gust of rain-filled wind hits the window with a thud and a roar. The door rattles. This blast, marked by a loud whooshing sound, goes on for a couple of minutes.
Then silence returns.

An hour later, there’s a knock on the office door and French Natalie says, ‘Ze peeple want you’. I go into the hall to find a posse of yoga people who say ‘There’s a tree down, in your drive, and we cannot get out’. – My immediate thoughts are, oh, probably some little sapling. I’ll just hoist it out the way.

I go out and the movement-sensitive light comes on and illuminates the driveway completely blocked by a dense barrier of big branches. A tree that stood by the front garden wall had been blown down and fallen across the drive. When standing, it had looked slight and harmless. But fallen, it is huge and completely blocks the drive. It is going to take some clearing.

So, after first calming the yogis and suggesting they have a cup of tea indoors, I go looking for the chainsaw. Outside, it is wet, windy, and cold. People for the second relaxation group are arriving, or trying to but are unable to get down the drive. We only have one tiny torch that works, which I give to the French wwoofers to go out on the lane and direct people. With little English at their command, and having not seen LSF in daylight, they are really in at the deep end.

Meanwhile, I get the chainsaw fuelled up and ready and, in pouring rain and darkness, start to cut a way through the tangle of timber. Three branches in and the saw stops. The chain has come off and the main drive cog will not turn. So, after calming two more unsettled yogis (‘I gotta get home, I got other things to do you know’ said one) I trudge back to the workshop, look for the saw toolkit, but cannot find it, so call neighbour Kas, who has a chainsaw but is out; so call next neighbour Dave, who has hand saw and says 'I’m on my way down to help’; and am just at the point of thinking, ‘I wish Andrea were here!’, when she appears like an angel out of the dark, ready for action in a high- viz jacket, and, of course, immediately finds the saw tools, and then takes over people-control so I can concentrate on spanners, tight nuts, chain bars, and cog wheels in a damp, dimly-lit workshop, trying to stay calm but aware that people are beginning to fret. One woman even dials 999 and is told that, if it is only a tree and no one is injured, the fire service is already too busy with other calls as a result of the storm to come out… but maybe later…

Finally, I get the chain back on, re-bolt the cover but find the chain on bar is too tight, so have to take it all apart again, with all those people waiting. Second time lucky and chain turns freely.

But now, the damp saw will not start. Argh! And still the rain falls, the night gets darker, the drive remains blocked (a really strange sight, our normally open and welcoming drive completely blocked by branches; you could not even see the lane through them) and the people keep asking when they’ll be freed…

Just as my arm was weakening from pulling the starting cord, the saw bursts into life and I race back to the fallen tree. Within half an hour (about an hour and a half after it all started) a way has been cleared through the branches for relieved people and cars to get out.

At about 9pm, weary wwoofers and relieved residents finally sit down to supper, and are able to laugh. It had been a baptism of fire for the wwoofers, a bit stressful for one resident, and a surprise home-coming for the other. Andrea made us all feel better with her wonderful stories of bread-baking and a beautiful bread board spread with selection of bagels, white rounds, fruit rolls, and all manner of bready treats.

Project

Once upon a time, on a Yoga Weekend, a nice man called Jesus came to LSF. He bent, he stretched, and he smiled and then he said, ‘Wouldn’t it be nice to have a sauna here.’ We agreed and told him of the willow benders we build, the pit we dig, and the rocks we heat to make a sweat lodge. And he said, ‘That’s a very simple sauna. Wouldn’t you like a more sophisticated rustic wooden one? And we said ‘Yes, but that would be a miracle.’ And he said, ‘That’s what I do. And I’m a carpenter, as is my friend Simon. He has planted larch trees, when once he flew jet planes.’ We liked what we heard and were inspired by the words of Jesus and thoughts of Simon’s trees. We reckoned others might be too. But, because we are healthy sceptics, and, life is for learning at Lower Shaw Farm, we decided to see if words could be turned into deeds. So, in July, we held a Sauna Build weekend.

As good as his word, Jesus turned up with Simon, in two old vans, loaded with beautifully-seasoned ‘green’ wood larch posts and stacks of Cornish Red Cedar planks. ‘Where do you want the sauna?’ he asked. ‘Here’ said we, taking him to a Hawthorn-surrounded space we’d cleared at the northern edge of the Circle Garden, just to the left of the pigsty. ‘Wow!’ said Jesus, ‘That’s amazing! It’s perfect!’ And, with Simon, he set to work, pacing out the points for corner posts, digging holes in which to sow sand and gravel, and laying out the hexagonal reciprocal self-supporting roof poles. Now it was our turn to be amazed. ‘Wow!’ said we, and made a celebratory cup of tea.

It was not long before Jesus had disciples, well, willing LSF wwoofers who hailed from Germany, France, and Reading, and proved ready converts to the joys of using the spoke shave, the small axe, and the hand drill, all quality hand-friendly tools that ensured a close and proper relationship with the wood. This was becoming one special sauna, being hand-built, with love, care, and companionship.

As the hot July days passed, a delightful structure took shape, made the more beautiful by the workers poring over it, bending to the will of their tools, chipping, sawing, drilling, and occasionally standing back to view their work.

Ten days in, and the roof was on, the walls were up, the benches built, and Ed the Reggae musician’s little hand-made stove was installed. Jesus shinned up onto the roof to site the chimney and circular skylight, and we followed to lay the roof turf, freshly-lifted from the front garden.

Now, we were itching to get in and try it out but finishing touches were needed. A couple of red geraniums either side of the door, a fresh-water dip, and a carpeted path. Now, our Jesus-built sauna was ready for use. And use it we do. Oh yes. You can too!

Events

Arts and crafts, yoga, massage, walking, circus skills, and music remain standing dishes at LSF and have all been brilliant as ever. But a relatively recent course that has really taken off is bread baking. It’s proving unbelievably and relentlessly popular. It really is lovely to see people, after a four-hour course, leave LSF with fresh loaves of bread they have made and know they have the knowledge to make more in their own home.

Another LSF-linked event that reached new heights of excellence and popularity was the Swindon Festival of Literature.

Animals

One morning in March we found a tell tale trail of black feathers in the car park and Mrs Turkey was nowhere to be seen. We knew the foxes were feeding cubs and feared the worst. But in the afternoon, two boys and their mother, Thomas, Charlie, and Sarah, who were just leaving after Mothers’ Day treats at LSF, noticed the trail of feathers went on after the car park, and followed them. There, in a dirty ditch, they saw MrsT, bedraggled and wounded but alive.

Andrea was summoned and Mrs T was caught and first-aided. On one side, virtually her complete chest had been torn away, down to the bone, and she had numerous puncture wounds in her neck.

The vet, whose advice was sought, said these were severe life-threatening injuries. But, to us, Mrs T still looked a viable and perky turkey.

So, naturally, we cleared out the greenhouse and set up an intensive care unit there. Single-chested, bare- necked, beaten-up Mrs T indicated that she wanted minimal attention; just water, corn, and a sunny spot by the window.

And there she convalesced for two weeks, laid an egg, and said ‘Let me out!’ - We did, and within a couple of months, she was pecking round the paddock with a couple of chicks in tow.

In April, there were more baby births. Lou the famous foundling sheep, had two lambs, just like that, in the middle of the night. No fuss, no bother. Two little sturdy beauties, with tight curls and cute as can be, who were soon gambolling in the paddock. They had a good if short life, their eventual destiny being the same as that of most male livestock.

In September, one cat came and in November, another went. Twelve year old Lilly, who for most of her life spent as much time at neighbour Peter-the- Carpenter’s house as she did at LSF(for the special- mix cat food? the wall to wall carpets? the comfy set- tees? the central heating? the telly? who knows?) slipped into the Dairy one chilly autumn night, mooched around a bit, went over to the chair by the window, staggered, lay down, and died. You could say, she had come home to die. We had our moment of gratitude and sadness but, as the poet said, decided not to make a tragedy out of it.

And anyway, new tigerish life was already filling the house. Neighbour Elena-the-Friendly had offered us one of her feline litter, in the shape of already-named stripy 10-week old Felix. He’s a great little chap, thoroughly cat-like, curious, and convinced that anyone doing the washing up wants him to leap onto their shoulder. Jake reckons that, in everything he does, he is simply practising to be a tiger!

The nine Khaki Campbell and Indian Runner ducks, that waddle in a line, preen like works of art, and make people smile, have been waiting weeks for water in their pond, but there has been none. Every morning, when let out, the first thing they’d do is go check the pond but always, it was dry. Until, like the perfect present on Christmas Eve, the rain fell, all day and all night long, and soon the pond was full, to overflowing. The ducks were delighted. They plashed and splashed on Christmas Day in the morning! It was as if they had something to celebrate.

People

Even though her success in education and study means that Jessica spends most days either at college or at the childrens nursery, she still finds time to be a useful and wise presence here, and to make the best of bread.

Home-bred offspring and semi-residents also still make occasional appearances. Rosa’s annual routine with her clothing brand Rosa Bloom takes her to Bali in winter and round major festivals and London pop-up shops in summer.

Jake (the Juggler) has learnt lots of Spanish, walked very high high-lines in the USA, UK, and Swindon, and is about to jet off to Nicaragua again with Performers without Borders.

Anna, following her work with the Red Cross, which included a project in Azerbajan, has just been taken on by the International Medical Corps to work in Turkey helping Syrian refugees.

Andrea took time off to take a slow train across Europe, calling in on Paris, Munich, Budapest, Sibiu in Romania, Istanbul, and finishing with a Yoga holiday on the Turkish coast.

Matt, following the best ever LitFest and having reached 100 parkruns, took off to Paraguay for his annual frolics of horse-riding, river-swimming, and writing. This year, he spent one week helping on an adventure-packed tour with guitarist Richard D and came back refreshed, or something like that…

Peroration

As the rain falls, the pond overflows, and gale-force winds blow more corrugated sheets off the woodshed roof (‘There’s a piece of roof in the sheep’s pen’ said Andrea. ‘There’s another in the yard’ said Matt. ‘Let’s make re-roofing a project for next year!’ they both said together.) we look back on 2013 with gratitude not only for our life here, the events we have run, and the work we have done, but also for the terrific people who have found their way to LSF, to take part in our courses (sorry we have not described them all but they are memorable nonetheless) to use and enjoy the farm, and to help us keep it going, especially via WWOOF.

Significant among wwoofers have been one Maria and one Nuria, both from Spain. They came for a short time in summer. They worked, laughed, and watched us, so closely that, in the cabaret at Summer Activities Week, they were able to perform a hilarious satirical sketch not about bull-fighting or flamenco but about the two oldest residents at LSF. Foolishly, perhaps, we have invited them back; and are delighted that they have accepted and are returning as longer-term residents. They both like LSF, are a positive presence, work hard, do parkrun, know how to laugh, and have a sharp eye and wicked sense of humour. So, watch out. Maria & Nuria are about!

Feliz Año Nuevo!