Two and a half weeks with Host 2: Tick!
My second WWOOF host has
been a community living deep in the Dorset countryside, housed in a big old Victorian
rectory and various satellite structures (cabins, yurts, caravans). The place itself is incredibly beautiful
and atmospheric – full of unexpected nooks and artwork. It has everything you could wish for
from an alternative/rural living space: a farm, dairy, kitchen garden, fruit
garden, poly tunnels, fields, streams, wooded areas, compost loos, a rope swing,
cob oven, fire pit, a little Pub-cabin, picnic tables etc.
The community proper has
only 4 members, which seems shockingly small for the size of the overall
operation - it includes a B&B business and a venue for hire - but the
set-up is super efficient and there are a number of almost-members (people doing
a six-month trial), long-term volunteers and kind of ‘affiliated’ people living
here. From my outside perspective,
the community seems very open and non-hierarchical – it took me a good few days
to even figure out who was a member and who was a volunteer, for example. The population is also ever-changing
and shifting as volunteers and visitors come and go, some staying for a day,
others for months. This has
advantages from the point of view of a short-term volunteer as you feel
included and comfortable very quickly, but I can imagine that for the members
it comes with a certain element of strain. Having new faces around constantly and being required to be
welcoming and conversational all day, every day, ad infinitum? Jeepers!
So, enough of all the
technical description already, how was it?
Well…I’m still not completely sure, to be honest, but I will endeavour to piece
my scattered thoughts together.
I was very apprehensive
before I arrived. After my dubious
experience with Host 1 (incidentally I have now met two other people who have
WWOOFed at that farm and they both hated it and left early. One even said that the host man made
her cry. I feel vindicated!), I was not at all sure what to expect and feeling
quite negative about my whole volunteering plan. It probably didn’t help that
the two hosts were not that far from each other geographically, so, having run
away to London for a few days recovery, I had to arrive back at the exact same
train station and wait on the same bench to be collected. UGH.
However, from the moment I
was greeted by the community member who had been dispatched to pick me up,
things were completely different.
Throughout my whole time with this host I was spoken to - by everyone
without exception - as if I was a human being, worthy of consideration,
interest and respect. What’s more, whichever community member I worked for on a
given day said thank you at the end of the work period, even when it had been a
very relaxed session. It’s such a simple thing but I can’t tell you how much I
appreciated it. I was carried through the usual tricky first few days of
acclimatisation on a giant wave of relief and joy at the contrast!
I really liked pretty much
everyone I met, members, volunteers and all; strangely, those who I didn’t warm
to straight away, became some of my favourites as time went on. Communal living
is a great way to properly get to know people in a short amount of time as you
are both working and socialising together. You can get into some serious conversations that you wouldn’t
have in other settings, and also have some fun, with people of very different
backgrounds, nationalities and ages (while I was there the population ranged
from 6 months to 63 years!).
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| That middle compost heap there? I helped make that. It's a damn fine compost heap! |
My main reason for going there, apart from a certain curiosity about how it would be to live in a
community, was that the growing is done biodynamically and luckily for me the gardener was very enthusiastic about sharing his knowledge. I requested
to volunteer predominantly in the garden and so spent a fair amount of time
working for this guy, who, as an energetic, curly-haired Garden Sprite with a West Country accent was pretty much everything you could require from a
biodynamic, alternative community gardener! He was also really kind to me and
we got on well.
Because of the nature of the
operation, I couldn’t just spend my whole working week in the gardens, but actually
doing the odd day on House (cleaning and making up rooms) or Kitchen (food prep
and washing up) was nice for a break when my back was starting to feel like it
would snap from digging or weeding.
The absolute best thing
about Host 2 for me, though, was the FOOD, oh
yeah! Vegetarian/vegan only, amazing cooking, healthy and flavoursome,
plentiful, snacks available, raw milk, home-made butter, yogurt and cheese,
dessert provided nearly every day – I was like a pig in clover. (A literal pig; probably not that great
for my waistline but I’m hoping the more active lifestyle has counteracted the
gluttony? With no access to
weighing scales I’m going to choose to believe that it has). Since Host 1 was a
‘No meat, no meal’ type of man, I had eaten more red meat in the preceding two
weeks than in the whole of the rest of the decade and thought I might have some
trouble adjusting, but it wasn’t a problem at all.
Does all this unrelenting
positivity make it sound like there might be a ‘But’ coming? Well of course
there is, there’s always a ‘But’!
And here my reservations mostly sprang from my introvert’s need
to BE ALONE. Don’t get me wrong, I
enjoy spending time with people. A
couple of hours in the pub, say, a working day, perhaps the odd road trip. Just not all the time! And there’s the
rub for me; community living entails living in a community. There are people everywhere, all day long. You can just not talk to them if you
like, but it feels rude and surly if you don’t. Twenty people at dinner is not a particularly comfortable
experience for me, despite having grown up in a large family. I still haven’t really figured out why,
but I found mealtimes tough; I felt awkward and self-conscious and like I
wanted to take my plate and run off into the field. I guess it’s because in my
life I’ve mostly only eaten in small groups, or in front of the TV with
housemates (for shame!), or with very familiar family? Who knows why I have a
problem with it, I’m probably just a freak, but it tended to put a downer on my
day.
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| Fake grapevine pruning for the camera. Smile! |
At various points in my 2.5
weeks I was seriously considering the possibility of applying to return to this
place long-term – and I’ve still not made up my mind – but this
too-much-people-time thing is a real obstacle. I figured I would adjust to it eventually but it’s been a
month already and I’m still feeling unhappy about it so I’m no longer so sure! I just
like reading and thinking and daydreaming and stuff, and, well, peace and
quiet. Am I old before my time?
My other reservation about
living here is that people are moody
-of course they are, including (especially?) me. But I’ve seen a few hints of
barely contained ‘paddies’ just in this short sampling of community life and I’m
sure that the more time you spend with people, the more aware of the currents and
eddies of their happiness and unhappiness you become, plus the more it affects
you. I’m not sure I would like to
be in a situation where there is no escape from that.
The final thing stopping me
from just joyfully crying ‘Hurrah I have found my niche!’ and asking to stay
for longer is that, although this is a ‘community’, there doesn’t seem to be a
common belief or principle that the community is based on. The ‘Why’, or the ‘glue’ of the
community seems to just be a loose wish to live an eco-friendly/sustainable
lifestyle with some other people around; the members appear to be almost just
doing jobs which entail that they also live there. Not that that is a major problem necessarily, and it
certainly allows for a more inclusive place, but for me personally to feel inspired
to live communally I think I would probably need a common… ‘spirituality’ for
want of a better word, with the other members.
Maybe.
But it is really beautiful. And the food is like, sooooo good! And
the biodynamics! And the people are so nice!
I’m confused, I tell you,
confused.
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