by What does the word “collective” suggest to you? Could it be a commune, perhaps, or a community version of it The Good Life? Perhaps it stems from Stalin’s bold proposal for a new approach to farming? To be honest, I wasn’t sure what to expect when I got close to the village of Woolsery in North Devon. Had I even arrived? The signs were ambiguous. There was Woolfardisworthy but also Woolsery – which turned out to be the same place (apparently, it seems, all pronunciation from the 17th century). The strangeness had begun.
And it didn’t end there. For the last hour, I’ve been driving through the miles of open fields and crumbling hamlets typical of North Devon – little clusters of cottages, a church, sometimes a small country pub or a poor village shop struggling to stay open, but usually either. A minute into Woolsery, however, and a change was palpable.
Suddenly there was a smart, perfectly manicured little pub (the kind that serves craft cocktails); upmarket village shop with post office; horticultural fish and chip shop; and an elite Georgian villa (the Gothic-named Wulfheard Manor). There was also a 150 acre organic farm nearby, and a neat portfolio of historic cottages meant to host visitors.
Here, in the wilds of Devon, was a small pocket of almost Stepford-like perfection; like a kind of immaculate toy house, or a movie set. A crooked slate, a drooping beam, a crumbling chimney breast was nowhere to be found. At first, I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.
But when you find out that all of the above – now rebranded The Collective at Woolsery – is owned by a multi-millionaire social media from California in Silicon Valley, things start to make more sense.
Far from a restless businessman looking for a pet project, he has a deep connection with Woolsery – Bebo, and his wife Xochi, founded the wildly successful social networking website Bebo in 2005. Indeed, his journey has been a circular one. : his great-grandparents built the original village shop, and his grandmother was born above it. Many of his family still live in the village and it is a place for him, even from his distant base in San Francisco, still full of happy childhood memories.
“The original inspiration was The Farmers Arms pub,” he explains. “It had been empty for a number of years and there was a plan to turn it into flats. For me, the pub is the heart of the village and Woolsery was unthinkable without the pub I’ve known all my life. Xochi and I were able to help, so it all started there. There was no plan for the Assembly from the beginning, it was snowing as other buildings in the village were made available to us in various states of disrepair.”
They are certainly not bad now. The Old Smithy, where I stayed, was filled with neat little touches (exposed beams and brickwork, two wood-burning stoves – one, rather delightful, in the bedroom) along with every modern convenience one could wish for. there. There is a delivery service when you order breakfast, which is delivered the next morning in a wicker basket. And it’s unlike any hotel breakfast you’ve experienced before: mine was centered around nettles, a fridge of vegetables, nuts and fermented spice seeds, plus a side order of sweet clover and vanilla yoghurt.
The farm-to-fork concept is certainly nothing new – but it’s rarely taken so seriously here. Not content with its food being just “organic”, the Joint Committee grows its fare in a way that mimics nature. The edible forest, for example, takes over the natural growing environment with intensively planted root crops, ground covers (such as herbs), fruiting shrubs, vines, low-canopy fruit trees and high-canopy nut trees that fix the nitrogen that nourishes the soil .
Visitors are welcome and, no doubt, surprised, because this is not like an ordinary farm. The crops (they have animals too – the Collective may be eco-friendly, but they’re not vegetarian) all grow together, alongside an abundance of flowers (used in cooking, drinks and cordials), and plenty of foraging.
This may all be starting to sound like The Village i The Prisoner, but – perhaps the strangest thing of all – is the complete opposite. A far cry from Stepford, Woolsery is a happy, thriving little place, humming with a sense of purpose and community, which has managed to avoid the descent of locals unable to find work that many have experienced. his neighbors on them.
Woolsarians are genuinely bright and welcoming (no “See you” rictus-grin here), chatting with visitors and guiding them through the action of the tiny lanes where they inevitably get lost. Local gardens are opened to the public every year; there is a tiny little primary school; the village hall hosts local arts and crafts shows; and there is an annual Street Fair. Miss Marple felt quite at home.
According to the Birches, the village has always thrived, and are keen to point out that Woolsery did not “save” The Collective. However, it certainly helped to keep it that way. Local produce (vegetables, cakes, honey) has an outlet in the Collective’s beautifully restored village shop and post office – essential amenities that are fast disappearing in South West villages. And, as the Collective’s accommodation can only host 20 people at a time, the Woolsery is unlikely to be overrun by tourists. It is, you could say, the perfect balance.
And if, on a rural retreat in Immaculate Woolsery, you begin to wander a little natural chaos, it’s easy to find. North Devon is a wild, windy landscape, perfect for winter walks. The coast – just a few miles from Woolsery – is as dramatic as it gets, with dunes, waterfalls and coastal cliffs.
At Hartland Point, you take a barefoot trip down to the sea where the spectacularly contorted rock formations have provided a fitting backdrop for smugglers and shipwrecks, both real and fictional (they last appear in the 2020 film). Rebecca). It is seen positively for wildlife. Rock pools are full of crabs, waders squat along the shore, porpoises and green seals swim along the coast, the murmurs of starlings fill the sky and wild orchids grow in the surrounding fields.
In contrast, after a day out in the wild, Woolsery feels positively comfortable, its neatness and attention to detail a comfort. Perhaps this is an experiment that shouldn’t work – and yet, it does. I can certainly imagine other struggling villages following suit: perhaps they’ll start by checking parish records for a Silicon Valley-based philanthropist.
Fundamentals
Anna Selby was a guest at the Woolsery Collective (01237 431 238), which has rooms from £275 per night, rooms from £325, and cottages from £450.
