The Practical Guide to Buying and Running a Smallholding in Wales

Liz Shankland

• Publisher: University of Wales Press
• Year: 2008
• ISBN:
  9781783162819
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Business
• Subtopic: Real Estate
• Index: Business

Offers guidance to buying and running a smallholding in Wales, aimed at would-be downshifters, wherever they may live.

1

ARE YOU READY TO LIVE THE DREAM?

CONSIDER THESE PHRASES: downshifting; escaping the rat-race; getting back to nature; living the good life. All phrases we are familiar with in the twenty-first century, and all phrases we throw into conversation when we talk about moving out of urban life and into the countryside. People become smallholders for numerous reasons. Some, like me, do it on a whim – but I wouldn’t recommend it.

It was about 8.30 p.m. on Tuesday, 11 July 2000, when my particular journey into the unknown began. I had just got home after my hour-long trek from work in Bristol. Every day I left home at 6.45 a.m. to beat the traffic and get a parking space near the BBC. I was at my desk an hour before I needed to be, but it saved me a fortune at the multi-storey car park. Instead of finishing at 5 p.m., I would hang on a good hour or so and do some extra work to miss the soul-destroying traffic jams on the way back. It was a great job, but in the wrong place. I hardly saw my 10-year-old son, nor my husband Gerry, who had a hugely demanding job with South Wales Police as the Chief Superintendent in charge of the city of Cardiff.

So there I was, as usual, standing in the kitchen – tired, irritable, and idly flicking through some newspapers whilst wondering which convenience meals to pull out of the freezer for dinner. I picked up the property supplement. I’ve no idea why, because we weren’t looking for a new house at the time. We had, in fact, spent three years renovating our 1970s time capsule of a home, which had come complete with kitchen to dining-room serving hatch, swirly Artex ceilings, brown and orange carpets, and boring, lawned gardens with predictable low-maintenance shrubs and Leylandii hedges. After so much hard graft and expense, we were going to stay put and enjoy it.

At least, that’s what we thought. Normally smallholdings featured in the paper were deep in west Wales, a good hour or two from Gerry’s work and our families, and even more out of the question as far as my capacity for commuting was concerned. But this time, the place that caught my eye was on the outskirts of Caerphilly, just three or four miles away. I showed it to Gerry – more out of surprise than anything else. ‘I know where that place is’, he said, and the next thing I knew, we were in the car and on the way there.

We climbed up a single-track road, flanked by tall hedges, and then the public highway seemed to dissolve in front of us into a rocky mountain track which looked impassable by vehicles. The only option was to turn right, into a farmyard, where we recognized the house from the picture in the paper.

We only paused a few minutes before turning the car round and heading home, but we both knew then and there that we had found something a bit special. The next morning I was on the phone to the estate agent, asking for a viewing. By Saturday we were taking a tour around the property. Later in the week, we went for another look. As we stood in the bottom fields, looking back up towards the house, we decided we had to have it. Minutes later, we offered the farmer the full asking price and he accepted.

Time to Stop and Think! Is This Really What you Want, and Can you Do it?

I wouldn’t for one minute suggest that anyone followed our impetuous example. Hopefully, if you have gone as far as buying this book, you’ll have at least considered some of the pros and cons of taking on a place in the country with a piece of land bigger than the average lawn. I do hope so, for your sake. Gerry and I learned by our mistakes, and our transformation from inexperienced townies to semi-competent smallholders was slow, expensive, tiring and often frustrating. We got there because were both determined, adaptable, willing to make sacrifices and, thankfully, shared a sense of humour.

In our case, we didn’t really know what we wanted until we found it. True, we had always wanted a house with a bit more space between us and the neighbours; we had always enjoyed working outside together on our previous house, loving the aching satisfaction at the end of a day of good, hard labour; and we loved just sitting outside, at the end of a busy day, watching the birds flying home to their roosts and the bats flitting about overhead.

Saying all that, it took a long time for us to realize that what we really wanted was a different, slower way of life, a life which meant there was time to appreciate our surroundings. So often in this world we work all the hours God sends just to pay for expensive homes, furniture and gadgets which we never have time to enjoy. Pretty soon, we realized we were thinking of downshifting, escaping the rat-race, getting back to nature, living the good life – all those things I asked you to consider at the start of this chapter. The only stumbling block was how to do it. Our new place cost twice what we got for our old house, so there was no question of either of us giving up work. Gerry was still a few years from the all-important thirty-year landmark with the police, when he could retire on a full pension at 49. I was eleven years younger than Gerry and decades away from pensionable age. We had no alternative other than to remain full-time wage-slaves and compromise by becoming part-time smallholders, at least for a while.

Making Decisions that Involve Others

If you’re living with someone who shares your dreams and ideals about moving to the countryside, you’re part of the way there. If there are other people involved, it naturally gets a bit more complicated. It’s no longer merely about the kind of lifestyle you want, but to what extent others will be able to adjust to it.

How, for example, would teenagers cope with living miles away from the kind of things they take for granted – their friends, trendy high street stores, fast food takeaways, cinemas and DVD rental shops, for example? As many smallholders who are parents will tell you, Hell hath no fury like a teenager torn out of comfortable suburbia and sent to languish in a remote farmhouse with draughts, mice and no broadband.

What you Think you Want and What you Think you Can Achieve

There are times when we all think we know what we want. Unfortunately, reality can be very different. Ask yourself some questions.

Would everyone in my household be happy with the idea of moving to the countryside?

It’s far better to get all this out in the open before you go too far. Even your partner – however loyal and supportive – might have some nagging doubts. Depending on how far away you’re moving, you might also have to consider the impact on elderly parents and other relatives who are used to seeing you. Sit down with everyone concerned, let them voice their opinions, and make a brutally honest list of all the pros and cons of moving.

Do I really want to take on a smallholding and all the responsibilities being a landowner can involve?

There could be some compromise solutions, if all you want are some elements of the smallholder lifestyle. Would you, for instance, be better off buying a rural cottage, so that you could enjoy easy access to your favourite walks, but not have the burden of looking after land or livestock? If riding is your thing, and you’re thinking of a move so you can buy a horse and stable it, wouldn’t renting a paddock or finding a livery yard make more sense? And here’s the big one. Are you just dissatisfied with your current lifestyle – your job or your relationship, for example – and in need of some other kind of change? A smallholding might act as a temporary distraction from your problems, but there are no guarantees it will solve them.

Could I give up the convenience of living in the town or city?

Consider your shopping habits, and the thought of having to drive miles each time you run out of the essentials. Think, too, of how convenient it is to slip out for a DVD and a takeaway curry. Popping in for a drink at the nearest ‘local’ could well mean taking the car, so that long-awaited pint you think you deserve might have to be a pint of squash.

Do I have the time and the dedication to devote to a smallholding?

Land won’t just look after itself. Pasture land which has been grazed with sheep or cattle is likely to be incredibly high in nutrients and, if left ungrazed, will soon become overgrown with all those weeds everyone loves to hate, like dock, nettles and creeping buttercup. Assuming you intend to continue working full-time, you’re not going to have much spare time to look after your land or any livestock. You might end up renting out your fields to a neighbouring farmer – in which case the land might not really feel like your own. How might you feel about that? On the other hand, if you’re determined to grow crops or raise livestock, you may have to buy in some help. Could you afford to?

If you decide that a half-way house compromise could work (like keeping your regular job whilst devoting all your spare time to your smallholding), could you honestly say you would have the energy and enthusiasm at the end of a working day to get changed and start work all over again? If you’re in a relationship, or have a family, what would the others in your life think about being deprived of your time and attention?

And, what would happen if, for instance, you were to become ill, wanted a holiday or had to be away for a while because of your job? Who would take over your chores? I didn’t realize the importance of having someone to step into the breach until the summer of 2007, when I fell and fractured my spine. I spent five months in a spinal brace, under strict orders to do as little as possible. Fortunately, Gerry and Josh managed between them to juggle my jobs around work and school commitments and the show went on. Had they not been in a position to be so flexible, I’ve no idea what we would have done.

Case Studies

Here are some of the highs and lows of buying a smallholding, as seen through the eyes of some of the contributors to the downshifters’ website, www.acountrylife.com. Thanks to the website founder Carolyn Ekins for allowing me to include these personal accounts. Names have been changed to protect privacy.

Julie’s story

It’s easy to have the ‘rose-tinted specs’ view of smallholding. I certainly did, when I was sat in my office at my old job day dreaming everyday, and trawling the internet for inspiration and guidance. I had a vision of me and my other half, maybe working part-time, living in a country cottage with a few acres, small mortgage, living frugally, growing veg, making our own wine, cakes and bread.

In reality, we have found the cottage and managed to downshift a little. My other half has the part-time job so he can work on the house and land. Unfortunately, in order to make our cottage in Mid Wales habitable, I now have a new job that has longer hours, is more stressful, and less well-paid (Welsh salaries are not great). We moved here nearly 12 months ago, and we still have no heating other than a coal fire and two electric radiators, and my solid fuel Rayburn is not yet working. We have no toilet (bucket in traditional outhouse), no shower/bath, and, until recently, had only cold water. To wash, wash up, etc., I had to boil a kettle. Until we re-wired the place, that was on a gas camping stove as well! Although we have got used to living like this, it is not fun!

I haven't made any bread or cakes, as the kitchen is laughable (a camping gas stove and microwave), and the elderberry wine we tried to make went off through inexperience. We had a minor success with some veg this summer, but really only grew a few beans, some slug-ravaged spinach and a million courgettes. Hardly self-sufficiency! Our only apple tree had to be chopped down to make way for the JCBs, and we are currently living in a building site whilst waiting for the extension to be finished. I am regularly late for work, as I have to deal with problems with the builders, and I turn up with mud all over my shoes.

But, every morning when I wake up I can hear birds and sheep instead of traffic and sirens. When I finally get home from work, I can relax by a crackling fire, or sit and look at the fabulous view. I love living in a village, we have been very lucky and been made to feel part of the community straightway. I know more of my neighbours in 12 months than I did in seven years in the city.

Leslie’s story

The fundamental problem with smallholding is the cost involved. It costs more to buy or rent the place than any ‘normal’ dwelling. Then there is the cost of equipment. Okay, you can buy fourth-hand, make do and mend, but sometimes buying new is the only way if you want to get something in time. Stock needs to be bought, nurtured, and fed before it can possibly generate a return. There are vet fees, medicines, supplements. The bureaucrats want their pound of flesh too. We found the reserves very quickly vanish. If you're not careful, I suspect a mountain of debt is very easy to accumulate against which the meagre return looks very sad.

If, of course, smallholding is purely a hobby and you have a decent job providing a ‘normal’ income, then it's just like any other hobby, I guess – fishing, skiing, whatever. But even then you have to consider the substantial time cost. You must keep at it, regardless of other commitments; you can't just say, ‘It's raining, we won't go out’, or ‘We'll go to Alton Towers today’. Not only are full holidays out, but other sorts of ‘time out’ will be curtailed. In winter, daylight is limited and if you have jobs to do, it really is best to get them done while the light is there – so you have less opportunity for leisure.

Smallholding, and farming in general, is a way of life not experienced by most modern people. It pervades everything you do because the tasks you have to get done must come first; anything else fits around them, or is dropped until the animals are fed, fenced, and cared for. Sure, I could dwell on muck-shovelling, fixing broken fences in a snowstorm, chasing escaped animals, juggling tasks all of which need doing before each other. But the cost in money and time are the fundamental problems!

Ellie’s story

The ‘dream’ is so much more affordable now than it ever has been. Low mortgage rates, increases in equity through rising property markets etc. Yes, a smallholding in Wales or wherever is more expensive than it was, but compared to increases in the south-east of England, it’s a joke.

Why, when generations of farmers and smallholders have been unsuccessful in a venture does an IT consultant think he/she could turn it around? For a smallholding to be viable, it needs either lots of experience or investment, and there's no guarantee that either will work. If a smallholding is cheap, there's a reason – poor land, lack of access etc., all of which have a huge impact on viability. The old adage of ‘buy the best you can afford’ rings true here. My experience has taught me that unless the smallholding can stand on its own two feet as a business, and is debt free, I'm not doing it. As a business, I mean wholesale production of some sort – I have no interest in selling the odd thing here or there for a quid or two. It’s pointless.

Keep all the organically grown/reared stuff for yourself to reduce your costs, or for a bit of beer money. The vast majority of the paying public couldn't give a stuff if it’s grown here or in Kenya. And unless you are very fortunate, my opinion would be you are on a hiding to nothing if you base a business plan on a premium product in what is fast becoming an over-supplied market.

John’s story

Smallholding is a lifestyle. Nothing more, nothing less. Anyone who thinks that they can live off a few acres and live the good life needs to do some serious rethinking. The T V programme, The Good Life – delightful as it was – did more harm than good, giving the idea that you can live off fresh air.

It is essential that you have at least one regu...