SHERINGHAM DIARY 21 ~ Let Them Eat Paint - (Subsisting on Farrow & Ball )

Once you're accustomed to North Norfolk, you realise its reputation as one of the most popular places in the UK for the middle class to retire to, has had unforeseen consequences. The indigenous population, if indeed there is such a thing anymore, learn to survive in a minimum wage economy, with a minuscule chance of owning their own home. Their opportunities being swamped, if not swept aside, by the needs of these semi-retired wealthy incomers, and the house prices they raise in their wake.

The village of South Creake is some twenty miles along the coast from us. It's population at the last census was 516. Like most small villages in the UK it has lost its local corner shop, and any pub will have either gone, or gone gastro to a pricey and exclusive degree. Simple cod and chips, will be coated in a beery batter with a side of rustic potatoes fried in duck fat, accompanied by thick buttered wedges of 'artis-anal' sourdough. But, fear not, all is not lost because what South Creake does have, is its very own Farrow & Ball Shop, and bespoke kitchen design outlet. South Creake lives on the fringe of Burnham Market ( population 877 ) where this type of thing flourishes unsupported by any retail rationale. It has its own Joules and Gun Hill outlets, plus several high end interiors shops, and though not quite the archetypal butcher, baker and candlestick maker, it comes close. There is a cafe/shop that derives everything it sells from their own farm in Tuscany.

You may well shake your head in incredulity. Cottonwood Workshop exists on the coastal cusp of associating with this world. You could say we understand what part of our 'target market' is. I raise my hand, I confess, yes, I have purchased Farrow & Ball paint, not to eat obviously, but to use on our furniture refubs. Though actually Little Greene paints are finer quality, with better coverage and colours. So I'm not just going along with established market consensus here, I'm able to wag my individuality with the best of them.  Once you've got a taste for top quality emulsion paint its hard to kick the habit and return to the weak and watery 'in house value brands.' It bears similarity to eating cheap white sliced bread after trying handmade sourdough. Yes, the latter is more expensive, but goodness you do feel better about yourself afterwards. Worthy of having more of this well made stuff instead of cheaply made crap that leaves a nutritional deficit, not to mention a social or cultural one.

Seemingly everywhere round here, the smell of sourdough is whispering at you from cafe windows 'come put your mouth around a substantial crust'.  I consider myself reasonably adept these days at making a spelt, rye or wholemeal loaf, but have remained wary of approaching this prince of 'artis-anal' breads. I recently launched myself into singing the long song of sourdough. First, I had to kick the habit of just throwing a pack of easy yeast in a bowl and begin making a sourdough starter. This takes 4-5 days, feeding it daily like its a voracious child who loves wheat and lukewarm water. On the fifth day, my starter exploded out of the bowl, dribbling bacterial slurry all over the slats in the airing cupboard and a stored duvet beneath. On the fifth day though, thou shalt also form a gooey 'predough.' On the sixth day of sourdough you form your actual dough after much knackering knuckle kneading. After which, I rested the aching arthritic hands for an entire hour.

According to my recipe there follows a strange ritual, as in a clockwise movement you pinch, stretch and fold the dough as if it has love handles, once every hour, for three hours.  Finally, you can rest after the dough makes it into a loaf tin and you wait and wait for the rising of the sodding thing......for a further 4-6 hours! If you can make it through all of that, the delightful taste of the bread is the minor achievement. That you survived long enough to see the sourdough reach breadhood, was the real deal. There really ought to be a badge for it. I've joined the National Trust, I've bought Farrow & Ball, I've made sourdough, I've arrived in the middle class elite. Though I was born in Halifax, Yorkshire, lets not make too much of that. These days its who you think you are, not what you are that really matters. If toffs like Reese-Mogg can become the voice of ordinary working people, I can behave as if I have time and money to burn.

Having now completed our first month as free citizens, unencumbered by meaningless work and accompanying stresses. It would, however, be incorrect to assume we are now living the life of riley. We have a lot of work to do. With experience we know how to make the best use of this time. For instance, we've learnt photographing or programming all day just does your head in. So we space it out, and ensure we get to do craft work, if not every day, at least regularly. We both have backgrounds with a strong work ethic, and what we are doing now isn't quite what most working class guys who happen to have got educated do.

On days when nothing appears to be going right, a mood can descend - that we aren't doing enough - or not moving fast enough on our various projects - or worry about running out of money, even though we don't need to. Some of this is an emotional panic around making this year count, plus we've had unrealistic expectations concerning how much we can actually physically or mentally do. There is also a backlog of processing, of stuff we've both sat on whilst employed at our previous workplaces. Now we are both our master and our servant, emotions do bob to the surface because we are both less guarded and more relaxed.  So even whilst motivated and inspired we can slip into tenseness and anxiety. Primarily because now, there is no one else to praise or blame for what happens, but ourselves.

We've achieved more than we perhaps give ourselves credit for in our first month. Jnanasalin has completed the design revamp of our website, and is nearing the end of the minute nerdy details of the background construction that will support it. We've re-photographed literally hundreds of stock shots for it. I've gradually got into a groove with refinishing items. I've painted, varnished or upholstered three stools, repainted four picture frames and made a battered wooden shell into a fully complete decorative box. We've also started assessing potential cafe sites, at this stage just to get a sense for what we should be looking out for in future.

Splash Swimming Pool Sheringham

Since moving to Upper Sheringham we have both become unfit, as a lot of comfort eating has been engaged in. Since starting 'our year of living a wee bit dangerously' we've begun monitoring our food consumption and getting more regular exercise. Jnanasalin goes for a long walk almost everyday. I've got back into swimming twice a week, hoping to expand on that once my body has grown accustomed. After the first swim, my body screamed at me like a new born baby - 'don't you ever ever do that to me again, you sadist!'. Because everyone knows that after 'Mummy' and 'Daddy' the next words an intelligent baby masters are 'you sadist !' The accumulative effect has been a substantial lift to my general mood and sense of well being, easing my bodily discomforts considerably too. So I guess you might call that a 'win win.'

We've had friends staying with us on two separate weekends. It was very good to spend time with both Saddharaja and Vidyasiddhi, catching up a bit, walking, taking in scenery and generally sharing some of our favourite spots in North Norfolk.  It can feel as though we live in a bit of a self contained bubble, so it was good to hear how things are going back in Cambridge, and of other peoples lives and future plans. It was a real pleasure.

Urgyen Sangharakshita

This week we heard of Sangharakshita's death. He founded the Triratna Buddhist Order, that I used to be a member of, and Jnanasalin still is. Sangharakshita was a remarkable man, sensitive, perceptive and possessed of a formidably rigorous mind, His analysis of social mores was controversial, plus there was abuse of power scandals recently, that had taken place in the early years of the movement. Despite the latter, he remains to us one of the most significant positive influences upon both of our thinking, practice and lifestyle. We intend attending the funeral to pay our final respects and show our gratitude to the teacher, to whom we owe so much concerning the form of our lives as Buddhists. It will be the first Triratna event I'll have attended since my resignation from the order, the prospect of which, in my imagination at least, I'm finding a bit daunting. This year is turning out to be such a significant one, with so many things and people coming to an end.

As you drive from Kings Lynn towards Fakenham, you pass a favourite sign of mine. Its stuck by the road, on a turning into a dirt track running by the side of a farm. For a moment when I first saw it, I was perplexed. Painted in large red letters on a white background it simply says SHORT TREES.  Now there may be a whole trend for trees that are vertically stunted, that I've remained thankfully unaware of. But I've come to the conclusion that the simple addition of an apostrophe and an S after SHORT, might provide a more easily comprehensible solution.