Why I swapped Harvey Nicks for a pigsty – by Country Life’s corker with a porker
THIS time last year, Dorothy scott had the kind of glossy career that many young women dream about. The 25-year-old graduate had landed a job working in the head office of luxury store Harvey Nichols in London, and was part of a team that shipped in clothing from all corners of the globe.
With a hefty staff discount, a large collection of designer handbags and travel expenses paid for, she looked all set to sashay her way up the corporate catwalk. she had a devoted boyfriend, lots of friends and a hectic social diary. but something didn’t feel right. ‘i knew this wasn’t the life for me,’ says Dorothy — or Dottie, as she is known to family and friends.
‘if you’re not working in London, you’re commuting. if you want to see friends who are five miles away, it takes an hour. i enjoyed the lifestyle to begin with but by the end, i was tired and didn’t want to be there any more.’
Unlike the majority of us who dream of quitting the rat race then scurry back to our desks in order to pay the mortgage, Dottie decided there had to be another way to bring home the bacon. so she decided upon pigs.
Now she is the proud — if unlikely — owner of 24 rare breed Gloucestershire old spots whose meat she sells weekly at farmers’ markets and on her website.
This number is growing — she hopes to have 40 pigs by next week — and as demand grows, she believes she will be able to keep over 200 on the land. she sells her produce at five farmers’ markets a month and sells 2,000 sausages, 500 pork joints and 400 bacon baps per month.
it’s by no means a huge amount but as the business has only been selling to the public for less than a month, it’s a great start.
This week, to promote her venture, she appeared on the famous ‘girls in pearls’ page of country Life magazine. The frontispiece used to be the place where aristocratic young gals announced their engagements. but in recent years, it’s taken a more modern approach.
Dottie, resplendent in skimpy red dress, bright red lipstick and £90 Hunter wellies, chose not to wear pearls, but instead to carry one of her porcine charges called Ginger. it was certainly different, earning her the nickname: corker With The Porker.
‘i thought it was hilarious,’ she laughs. ‘i wondered what my mum and dad would say — but they thought it was funny, too.’
Dottie says: ‘i was in London and met someone who used to work for the magazine. When she heard what i was doing, she said i should send them my story, so i did. Next thing i know, i’m being photographed and i’m all over the papers. it’s been great for business, but it’s a little unexpected.’
as career changes go, Dottie’s is, well, a bit dotty. she and brother bertie, 21, spent the first part of their childhood in Hong kong, where her parents Timothy and alison were both lawyers. she returned to the Uk aged eight and won a scholarship at the £6,200 per term Wycliffe school. but even after she had secured a 2:1 degree in history and political science, she admits she hadn’t the foggiest idea what she wanted to do.
‘i started off as a clerk for the tribunal service,’ she says. ‘i knew it wasn’t what i wanted to do long term, but it gave me a chance to move to London. Most of my friends had moved there and my dad — who is divorced from my mum — had moved to Twickenham.
‘Then i got the job in Harvey Nichols and, although i enjoyed it, it wasn’t as glam as it sounds. i got a big discount and lots of designer bags — which i still have and hardly ever use. it sounds like the kind of job every girl wants. but i wasn’t happy.’
she had moved to London with her boyfriend of three years, charles Murray, 26, who works in business development and whom she’d known since school. ‘charles and i wanted to buy a house but the prices in London were astronomical,’ she says.
‘We knew we were never going to be able to afford anything and charles was keen to move home, so we looked at moving back to Gloucestershire.’
That’s all very well, but you don’t suddenly wake up one morning and think: ‘Hey, i’ll become a pig breeder!’ — or do you? she laughs: ‘i’ve always liked animals and lived around farmers. One of my childhood memories is of an enormous pig in the field at the back of my parents’ house.
‘Through a friend, we heard about a chance to rent land and keep four pigs. it sparked an idea. i’m a big foodie and have always loved markets.
‘Dad used to be a chef before he was a lawyer so my brother and i have grown up with delicious meals. Whenever Dad used to roast pork, he’d have to hide the crackling from me otherwise no one else would get any.
‘i wanted to start a business involving food and this fell into our lap. charles stayed on in his job and we are business partners, but most of it is down to me. it meant handing my notice in at work and my friends were surprised.
‘but i’m glad i did it. i’m 100 per cent happier here.’ ‘Here’ is an idyllic part of Gloucestershire, not far from bristol. Verdant hedgerows border lanes which lead to the kind of farmhouses that make The Darling buds Of May look like it was set on a sink estate. it’s a world away from the capital.
but moving from the ab Fab world of Harvey Nicks with its champagne bars and beauty halls to mucking out pigs must be a shock to the system.
‘it was daunting,’ she says. ‘i knew nothing about it. i’ve been trying to learn from anyone who has got any experience and researching online.’
Her wavy blonde locks, peachy complexion and slim figure do not mark her out as a typical pig farmer. it makes you wonder whether the men and women who have been pig breeders for decades are disgruntled to have such a glamorous interloper.
‘There are auction houses where you go to buy pigs and you can imagine when i turn up, i don’t exactly fit in,’ she says. ‘When people first see me, they have this stereotype in their head of what i’m like. but as soon as they start talking to me, they appreciate i mean business.
‘i’m doing more hours than before but i don’t notice it because i’m happy,’ she says. ‘in London, i was exhausted. i was getting bored with going out drinking and a night out costing £200.
‘but i get to work in a beautiful place. i’m up at 5am and as i live in stroud, 30 minutes away, i drive to the farm to feed the pigs. We have someone to help out, but i want to work as much as i can with the animals and get my hands dirty.
‘Of course it means dealing with unmentionables, but i’m not squeamish.’ it’s just as well. after all, there can be no room for squeamishness when it comes to turning sows into sausages. Dottie takes the pigs to a local abattoir.
‘it was difficult at first,’ she says. ‘but i go to the slaughterhouse because it’s important i’m involved.
‘We use an abattoir which has been run by the same family for five generations. My philosophy about killing animals is that if i wasn’t doing this, a factory would be doing it and they wouldn’t be doing it as humanely. i try not to name the pigs because you get too attached.’
but what about poor Ginger? ‘Oh yes, well i named him by accident during the country Life shoot because i had to spend so much time with him and noticed he had a red tinge,’ she says. ‘i’m hoping he won’t have to go to the slaughterhouse.’
The business is less than a year old but Dottie’s plans are big.
‘We’d love to be as successful as Jimmy’s Farm (Jimmy Doherty, the farmer friend of Jamie Oliver who breeds pigs in suffolk). We sell only pork but we’re thinking about breeding turkeys for christmas. We’d love to start our own farm, too. The trouble is, we want people to think of Dottie’s Pigs as a high-quality product. and the bigger you get, the more you worry about quality. but then, i suppose that would be a nice problem to have.’
as she poses in the sunshine with her pigs amid the hay, she admits it’s weeks since she last wore any make-up or a dress.
‘When i lived in London, i’d be wearing heels and dresses every day. i’d go for manicures. you don’t really need a manicure when you’re shovelling manure and as for makeup — well, pigs don’t really notice if you’re not wearing lipstick!’
‘I’ve got lots of designer bags, but I hardly use them now’ ‘Pigs don’t notice if you’re not wearing lipstick’