Africa to Henley and a Rash Bet
In 2001 I met my husband, well to be precise we became re-acquainted, having attended Cirencester together in the 1990s we had seen each other annually at the Royal Show at Stonleigh where we had smiled politely and I had always thought he was "proper lovely!" This time we found ourselves mostly unattached (Marc rather more that me to be fair) and at a dinner marking the end of the RAC alumni. That was pretty much that! The room disappeared and it seemed imperative that we tell each other EVERYTHING in as little time as possible.
There was one small hitch with this magical beginning. Marc was due to leave 2 weeks later, in early February to take up a managers position at The Driftwood Beach Club, a hotel on the Kenyan coast. A couple of months later I was winding up my life here a planning to join him, selling my Bristol house for double what I bought it for 3 years earlier was a bonus and we were able, by pooling our cash, to buy a house on my parents farm and kit it out for rental. A very good insurance policy it turned out.
Well things didn't quite run to plan and by October I found myself perching on the edge of my parents sofa sheepishly explaining that I was pregnant, and that the father was a man they had met once and that I was moving to Africa to raise a family! By Christmas it was all change again and with the job looking less than secure and a lot of questions about distance from decent medical care we decided to come home,
Well not quite. We took a slightly more circuitous route. We deserved a little adventure before we returned to "mud island". So we packed up the landy, borrowed a map and set off along the red corrugated road that lead out of Malindi and into the Kenyan bush. Hot dusty, rattling along with a blown head gasket (such a noise I can't tell you) across 3 game parks, lava flows, being required to take on armed guards for a portion of the trip due to bandits, leaking petrol cans, HOW did a drawing pin arrive in the rear foot well under the plastic petrol can? It was a wonderful life affirming trip. That closeness to danger and the "you are on your own and living on your wits" feeling that you only really get in a 3rd world country is good for the soul. There were moments of fear, laughter and stunning beauty. Hundreds of elephants crossing the road in front of us with Kilimangaro in the background, the mad garage in Loitoktok where the man with the welding gun slid under the car with a fag still hanging out of the corner of his mouth. A young man "coaxing" the door from one pick-up to fit an altogether different brand of car with a lump hammer. The clapping, wailing and whooping pouring from the charismatic church (a tin roofed shack with a cross nailed to the door) next door while a goat looked at us balefully from the porch. Most of the fear surrounded Marc's attempts to stem the drip drip of petrol from the punctured can! I remember it vividly as a wild, dusty, exhausting and exhilarating trip and long to do it again with the children.
And then we were back and it was cold and we were about to move into a caravan, both be unemployed and have a baby. Nothing to be anxious about then!
Baby duly had in baking hot May 2003 a bit early and completely terrifying.. but you do what you do and just get on with it! and Marc had temporary work with a landscaping friend while he searched for a career job. We made a lovely little garden around our caravan, complete with a milk churn for the "posh pikey" look. We managed on very little, with well water, bottled gas and a lot of our own produce. It was perfect for a time of no fixed income. My lovely family was all around. My two younger siblings and my parents just across the garden.
Then Marc showed me a job in the paper that he thought he would apply for, General manager at Daylesford farm shop in Chipping Norton. (Cotswolds) "Pah I said... you wont get that .. I bet I would though" ..... "go on then" he said "put your money where your mouth is" and so I did.. By the end of day one of interviews I'd been called back in to meet Lady Bamford and realised that should I say yes, this was going to be interesting. I said no..... a week later after much to-ing and fro-ing and far too much money being thrown at me I (against my better judgement but seduced by the flattery of being wanted so much) agreed.
It was certainly a roller coaster. One moment in a private jet popping down to the French Riviera, lunching in their villa overlooking the mediterranean to be back in Oxfordshire for dinner, the next up in Rocester at the JCB factory for meetings, To London scouting out premises for the new shops and brand development meetings and then to Derbyshire to meet with the abattoir manager who was one of my line reports, It was an amazing, multifaceted job, full of challenges and I was lucky to be surrounded by a team of such talented people, Greg Dawson who has gone on to be head of Dairy and Pastry for Starbucks Northern Europe, Jo Schneider who developed Daylesford cheddar and other cheeses at the dairy who has gone on to create Stichelton, probably the best Stilton in the world, Emmanuel Hadjiandreou who now works in Hastings with Judges Bakery, Chef Paul Collins now running his own private dining company, Ben Raskin, top horticulturist now with the Soil Association and many others craftsmen or experts in their fields from shop dressing to brand marketing. An extraordinary collection of talent
It wasn't to last for all that long though! The challenge of "managing" Lady Bamford was one too much for me! and the juggling act of business woman and mother of a toddler was not altogether without its stresses.
Marc meanwhile had taken on the role of house-husband and had done a brilliant job of it, loving William and tending the garden, dealing with my exhaustion, Williams chicken pox and entertaining my NCT friends with his different, male perspective on childcare. I think he was just getting into it when everything went topsy-turvy again.
Marc's fathers business is insurance (yawn!) and in 2005 his business partner of 40 years swallowed his false teeth while snorkeling off the Kenyan coast and downed.. Ignominious, shocking (and no you are not allowed to laugh!!) it was a dreadful shock which caused enormous distress both personally and for the business. Marc stepped up and agreed to go and support his father and try to fill the enormous gap that Tom's death had left. Suddenly we had a massive childcare issue which we tried to solve with family and friends. When my work demanded too much and I couldn't find adequate care for William I resigned and came home.
And so there it is. The end of one story and the beginning of a whole new life. I was immensely blessed with good luck, an enormous energy and a huge passion for what I did. I learnt a colossal amount and have a great sense of pride in what I achieved in those years. I certainly have no hankering to ever return to that world but look back on much of it with a smile, especially my time at the Soil Association which taught me so much about organic farming and introduced me to so many amazing, thoughtful, committed people.