Lucy Corkhill

By Lucy Corkhill

13th November 2013

There was a point during last year’s interminable winter when I turned to my partner and said; “Give me a nice warm flat with double glazing, central heating I can turn up ridiculously high, a washing machine, a piping hot power shower, wall to wall carpets, a shop next door and a massive flatscreen TV.” Okay, perhaps not the flatscreen, but if someone had offered us the rest of the above during one of those snowbound afternoons, I would have leapt in with both feet and sod the ethical implications. We debated for a long time whether we’d do another off-grid winter.

Lucy Corkhill

By Lucy Corkhill

13th November 2013

Lucy Corkhill

By Lucy Corkhill

13th November 2013

Perhaps we’d be better off in the aforementioned flat, with amenities right next door and neighbours for our toddler to play with. And yet, here we are, still enjoying (most of the time) our off-grid adventure and preparing for another winter sans electricity. The nights are creeping in, and I’ve noticed that this year I feel less anxious about it.

Increased confidence
Several things are different about this year. Perhaps it is that we’ve done two winters here already (when asked how long we’ve lived here, we always describe it in winters e.g. “two winters, entering our third”) and have learnt a lot through trial and error. Our son is older now and our confidence as his parents has grown. I certainly won’t be crouched by his bedside waiting for frostbite to set in as the temperatures drop. Not least because he’s proved the hardiest of all of us, and happily runs around naked in the morning in temperatures I wouldn’t take my fifth cardigan off in, and also because bed-sharing has proved the most sensible way for us all to keep warm – that, and excessive amounts of hot water bottles.

“If it was impossible to raise a child in off-grid conditions, the human race would never have got started – we’d all be extinct.”

Tough lives
We’ve also had a very mild autumn so far, which has perhaps helped me forget what’s to come. A visitor once remarked that it would be impossible to raise a child here, a comment which slightly boggled my mind. For, not so long ago, this was how everybody lived. If it was impossible to raise a child in off-grid conditions, the human race would never have got started – we’d all be extinct. I am currently researching for a book set in Edwardian times, and am repeatedly reminded how incredibly tough life was in recent history. Our great-grandparents – even our grandparents – had more daily chores than we can even contemplate simply to make life liveable. And however tough it can get here when a big storm is rolling in, every 200 year old window is leaking, winds are making the crockery tremble, and the house is like a paddling pool, at least we can jump ship and go to family or friends’ houses for a few home comforts. We recently had some Scandinavian visitors who had memories of their grandparents’ survival tactics in remote houses where temperatures in winter make the UK feel like the tropics. Dummy windows – to keep out bitter northerly draughts – were apparently popular: a piece of advice we’re excited about trialling in our kitchen this winter. Irish visitors told us about grandparents in their eighties and nineties living off-grid lives on lonely farmsteads, and that certainly puts things in perspective.

Free power
When all is said and done, the positives outweigh the negatives. I listened to the news about the energy companies jacking up their prices with half an ear; concerned for the vulnerable people it would affect but with no trepidation on our part. Our solar panel provides less power in winter – in the summer we can use the internet and charge our laptops and phones throughout the day and into the evening – and that can be a cause for concern when I have a deadline to meet for work. It can also be a bit isolating when the phone runs out of juice on a freezing day down here, when the only visitors we get are seabirds. But, unlike the Edwardian people I’m writing about, I can jump in the car (and turn the heating up nice and high) and be in town within ten minutes. We have a book with anecdotes of some of the people who used to live in this house in the 1800s, and theirs was a bleak and lonely existence. They could be cut off for weeks in the winter. During the snow at the beginning of this year, we took our car to the nearest residential area as soon as the first flakes appeared. In snowy or icy conditions, the two tracks to our house are impassable but we had some adventurous times taking the sled to town to get coal and hiking the baby up and down the track, his little pink face aglow with wonder at the white landscape.

“The environment urges us to be still and quiet, and there’s no electric light to fight it with.”

And so to bed…
The other huge plus to living off-grid is an awareness of nature’s daily changes. Each day, the sun’s movement from one side of the horizon to the other seems notably faster. I can look up from my computer and see it edging towards the westerly cliffs, despite feeling like I’ve only just woken up! When darkness falls, our bodies become slower and sleepier. The environment urges us to be still and quiet, and there’s no electric light to fight it with. Bed’s insistent siren call comes earlier and earlier. Pre-parenthood, I once found myself in bed at 4pm here, after only eleven wakeful hours. With the light fading around 5pm now, it’s time for stories, or – at my son’s request – a rambunctious game of hide and seek in the pitch dark. The very best way to beat the winter blues is to get outside every day for whatever daylight is on offer, and a good sea breeze to energise and uplift. Whether it’s lashing with rain or knee-deep in snow, our dog is at the front door, tail wagging, and utterly oblivious to excuses. Which is a good thing really, as my son seems to take as much delight as the dog does in a wild and windy day, or torrential rain – she shows him just how much pleasure there is to be derived from leaping into a snowdrift or shaking off raindrops.

Freedom from the tyranny of TV
And though I did feel a bit out of the loop the other day when a group of friends were waxing lyrical about the finale of Breaking Bad (what’s Breaking Bad? I asked, to incredulous stares), I secretly relish the escape from all the negativity and pressure from the media. I find myself hugely irritated by TV, by the blatant unchecked misogyny of pretty, vacuous female presenters teamed with old codgers, by the ramming of sensationalist news stories down viewers’ throats, by lazy sexism, racism, classism, and government propaganda. I’m a hermit at heart, and living here allows me to stare out the window, read books and craft in contemplative silence, and to blame being a quiet sloth on the fact we don’t have power.

The Express recently ran a news story predicting the “coldest winter in 100 years”. A little bit of research turned up their source – a tiny private weather company – and their reasons for running the story. The tabloids admitted that extreme weather headlines boost their sales by up to 10%, and the weather companies involved get a bit of publicity too, even if the predictions turn out to be grossly exaggerated – as they often do. A huge sigh of relief from these parts, as these news stories – even if taken with a pinch of salt – can make us a little nervous! So, let’s hope for a lovely, mild winter with plenty of crisp, dry days.
And I’ll let you know if we’ve moved into that flat by January.

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