My big love affair with the countryside
Paul O’grady on the joys of rural life
From Lily Savage to For The Love Of Dogs, we’ve watched TV personality Paul O’grady, 63, for years. But, as his charming book reveals, away from the glitz and glamour of showbiz life, the simple pleasures of the Kentish countryside make him as happy as, well, a pig in muck!
IT ALL BEGAN WHEN…
I was five years old and had my first encounter with a newborn calf. Up until then, the only animals I’d come into contact with were Joey our budgie, Auntie Annie’s cat Jinksy and our neighbour Mrs Long’s dog, so the calf came as a bit of a shock.
‘Give him a stroke,’ my uncle
James said. ‘He won’t bite.’
He was having a laugh, wasn’t he? Stroke it? I was hanging off my mother’s pencil skirt, trying to crawl up her leg, desperate to put some distance between this behemoth and me.
‘Don’t be so nesh [timid],’ my ma laughed, pushing me towards the calf. ‘He’s lovely, give his little head a rub.’
And so I did, tentatively at first until I gained the confidence to run my fingers through his thick, curly hair. The calf nuzzled my hand, then gave it a lick and, at that moment, my fears now forgotten, the goddess Artemis, protector of animals, cast a spell over me and a lifelong love of animals was born.
LIVING THE RURAL DREAM
I fell for my house the moment I stepped out of the car. The love I feel for my adopted home of Kent far outweighs the occasional urge I have to sell up and move. I’ve lived here for almost two decades and I’ve seen saplings that I planted grow into trees, and tiny lambs that I’ve hand-reared turn into geriatrics.
‘Nothing happens in the countryside,’ I’ve heard city dwellers say. ‘It’s just fields and sheep.’ They couldn’t be more wrong, but to discover what it’s really like to live in the depths of the country, you have to get stuck in and embrace all the wonders rural life has to offer.
FABULOUS FETES
I’d much sooner go to the village school fete than an awards ceremony. They’re reassuringly old-fashioned with stalls and games reminiscent of another era. The fire brigade turn up and proudly display their highly polished engine. There’s usually a chap with his birds of prey, a local band and a couple of girls dressed in military uniform belting out World War II hits. Dame
Vera would be proud.
I’ve opened quite a few fetes in the area now. They’re short on celebrities around here, which explains why I’m hauled out to do the honours. I never quite know how to behave. Do I adopt the manner of a Lord Mayor and make a lengthy speech or do I go for the Lady of the Manor approach, waving graciously and announcing ‘I declare this fete open?’ In the end, I normally just say ‘Hiya’, followed by something inappropriate, forgetting there are children in the crowd.
‘I’ve seen tiny lambs that I’ve hand-reared turn into geriatrics’
I always head for the homebaked cake stall. The tea, coffee and beer flows, there are burgers and sandwiches, and everyone seems to be in a good mood, apart from the odd child throwing a wobble because it can’t have something it wants. Overall, the experience is charming.
MY EVER-GROWING MENAGERIE
I’ve had dogs for years – they definitely enhance your life. I’ve got six now: Louis, the eldest, followed by Olga, Bullseye, Eddie, Boycie and the latest addition, Conchita.
After I’ve seen to the dogs each morning, I feed the other animals – the pigs, goats, chickens, ducks, barn owls and sheep. Once, on a cold winter’s morning, I fed the pigs wearing just a white dressing gown and a pair of wellies. I got stuck in deep mud and found myself tilting forward, unable to stop as I made my slow descent into the mudbath, ending up face down in it! Strangely enough, being immersed in mud on a cold morning is quite a soothing experience and I laid there until Blanche, one of my pigs, came over to investigate, which made me extract myself as quickly as I could in case she sat on me, or worse, used me as a lav, which has happened more than once before.
THE JOYS OF JAM-MAKING AND CAKE-BAKING
I’ve learnt a lot living in Kent – for instance, I can identify wildflowers and herbs, whereas once upon a time a plant was just a plant to me. I’m more aware of the seasons than I was when I lived in the city, and I’ve surprised myself by making chutney, jam, butter and ice cream.
I took up baking after moving to the country. I get cake-making fits.
I’ll suddenly declare in the middle of something I’m watching on the TV that I’m going to turn out a lemon drizzle or a nutmeg loaf and head for the kitchen to see if I’ve got all the ingredients.
I used to worry that I was going to seed, churning out gallons of ice cream instead of ‘clubbing it’. But once I discovered I no longer wanted to go out every night, I came to terms with the fact that I was beginning to prefer staying in to try out new skills, wondering if the strawberry jam I was making would ever reach a rolling boil, or worrying if the orphaned lamb that I was sitting up with all night would see the sunrise.
Instead of attempting to get this new country lifestyle to adapt to my old one, I went with the flow. It took a while, but slowly I learnt to relax and embrace the joys of living in the countryside.
ENJOYING SOLITUDE
Far from fighting solitude, I’ve embraced it. The whole point of me moving to the country was to have quality time doing things that I want to do. This was a rare luxury before as I was always working. I felt blue after moving to the country because I didn’t know what to do with time on my hands. To coin a phrase that I’m not keen on, I didn’t know how to stop and smell the roses.
I’m happy to say that now, I look forward to time on my own. If you lead a busy life then those moments when you can sit on the sofa and read a book undisturbed for an hour or spend time indulging in a hobby is not time wasted, it’s time to recharge the batteries.
I’ve stopped feeling guilty if I do absolutely nothing or spend an afternoon absorbed in a hobby, nor do I worry if I don’t see anybody for a day or two. I haven’t turned into a miserable old recluse, I’ve just learnt to cherish having time on my hands in a beautiful part of the world.
THE CHANGING SEASONS OF LIFE
At one time, I believed I was invincible, but now I’m older I’m aware of my own mortality and often wonder how long I’ve got left on the planet. It’s a morbid subject to dwell on, I know, but once you reach a certain age you ponder matters of life as you watch autumn turn the leaves brown and your friends and animals die off when you believed they’d always be there.
There’s a magnolia tree that’s nearly as tall as the roof of the house, which I planted on the day I moved in, believing that it was only a small plant. When it blossoms in early spring it’s a ridiculously beautiful sight, even though its blooms are short-lived and within weeks the lawn is littered with pink and white petals. When that tree is in bud, about to explode into flower, I know that spring has arrived, and when the blooms appear I enjoy them for as long as they last. It’s little things like this that make me aware that, just like the magnolia blossoms, we’re all transient and must enjoy life for as long as the adventure lasts. Bugger me, I’ve turned into
Peter Pan.
‘I’ve learnt to embrace the joys of living in the countryside’