A Room With A View

I have swapped one reality for another. From being a caravan-dwelling nurturer of a patch of soil in mid-Wales, I have become a volunteer resident in an intentional community in south-west England. This transformation has happened every winter since 2013. Each time I flit south I am welcomed by a whole crew of friendly and familiar faces, good people who are for a while living and sharing their lives together at Pilsdon. For a few months I swell the numbers by one.

My room is on the ground floor of the East Wing, originally the stables for the manor house, that runs the length of the central quad and houses the male residents. The quad is put down to pasture, with a diagonal fence across it which forms two small fields, so sometimes my window looks out upon a few sheep or a couple of calves, but right now it is empty. The two calves are indoors now, in the stables directly opposite me, next door to the three beef cattle who I can see right now munching their hay. Their stables form the top end of the long single-storey block called the Loose Boxes which also contains a number of single-bed rooms for those who visit at weekends (in Pilsdon parlance, “the wayfarers”).

A squirrel lay on my land's entrance track, still warm but definitely deceased

In between these bedrooms and the cows is a long room used variously for more formal meetings, for the watching of important sports events on the wide screen TV, and for the laying out of large collections of second-hand clothes that are occasionally donated en masse. Such a donation happened recently so today all those who wished to extend their wardrobe a little could be found in there trying on extra-large jumpers and comparing socks. I myself came away with a natty pair of smart black shoes which fit perfectly. May the soul of their previous owner rest in peace (I assume).

A huge Angora rabbit, one of many at my friend's rabbit farm.

The Manor house is off to the left, out of view of my window, where all the meals happen and where I spend many a happy hour murdering Beethoven on the piano. But if I lean and look right I can glimpse the milking parlour and the “North Barn” (there's only one barn and it's to the north) which houses a mountain of hay. Next to that, out of sight but closer still to my room, is the winter quarters of Snowdrop, Daffodil and Cuckoo, the three Jersey milking cows. Their summer quarters, which they find infinitely preferable no doubt, are the surrounding fields. Still, part of their winter quarters is an external yard so they have daylight and fresh air when they want it and they get as much delicious hay as they can eat.

As I write it's approaching that important time of the day, 4:30pm, which Pilsdon marks with a daily ritual known as Tea and Toast, whose key ingredients can easily be gleaned from its name. Yesterday we celebrated two birthdays so it was temporarily upgraded to Tea and Toast and Cupcakes. Today there's some grape jelly I want to try, made from the grapes of the two vines I planted back in early 2013 so I think I'll leave you now to join the others in the Common Room. Till next week!