by David Hoppit
They erupted overnight, like giant puffballs; ranks of new, white caravans (sorry, mobile homes) stood motionless where once sad-eyed Friesians and Jerseys went about their daily plod.
At least caravans are silent; and they can soon be hidden by fast-growing poplars. The farmer on the other side of us “planted” rather less sociable crops, which sprang to noisy life before Sunday matins.
We had motorbike scrambling to the left of us, stock-car racing to the right of us, while overhead a squadron of microlights re-enacted the Battle of Britain. On the common and nearby green lane lunatic four-wheel drive enthusiasts churned the turf where once glow-worms glowed, and if a hiatus in the din did occur one heard a distant cry of “fore” from the new golf course.
These are the new Euro-crops, which England’s slim-waisted farmers are sowing in order to survive. Most require change-of-use planning consent but all too often anarchy rules in the meadows — at least until the complaints roll in.
Where old-fashioned cultivation does still occur the talk at partridge-culling centres as much on subsidies as it does on yields; and by the time the Taylor’s ’55 is circulating, plans for converting the old barns into homes are already germinating. A parliament of barn owls and attendant pipistrelles, rare in our parish, was recently evicted from a hayloft to make way for an “executive home”. There is sometimes more nature, and certainly more tranquility, in the middle of town, especially at weekends.
Happy the farmer, and happier still his neighbour, who has a well-drained, south-facing slope on which he can practise viticulture. With a little luck and a strong wife, plus a patient bank manager, he should emulate Emilio and Julio Gallo and have both profit and fun.
There are now more than 400 commercial vineyards in England and Wales, plus countless small and hobby enterprises, covering in excess of 2,000 acres. This year’s remarkable vintage, abundant and destined to be the best since the renaissance of English wine, will certainly beget further development. Perhaps viticulture will be the one beneficiary of the greenhouse effect — provided the ice caps do not melt and engulf the vineyards.
There is nothing new about making wine in England; the Romans did it, the monks through the ages did it, the Normans certainly did it (more than 400 vineyards are recorded in the Domesday Survey) — indeed it was only after the first world war that English wine became, for 25 years, definitely non-U.
The revival after the last war was slow and is recorded beautifully in an excellent new book by Hugh Barty King, A taste of English wine (Pelham, £15.95) — essential reading for budding vignerons.
Most small new enterprises cannot afford to install their own winery; anyway, the fulgent stainless steel vats are rather boring affairs when compared with the oak ones of yesteryear, and treading the grapes went out long before plimsolls came in. A new winery could cost as much as £50,000 to install; most small producers make use of co-operatives in the early years.
Establishing the vines themselves is a long process; it will be three years before any crop at all is harvested, and five before full production is under way. English growers sometimes prefer the Geneva Double Curtain method of training their vines to the more common Double Guyot, even though full production takes longer to achieve with it. The GDC system uses fewer plants but involves costly frames bringing the crop to shoulder height; the advantages, however, are easier pruning and harvesting and less susceptibility to ground frosts.
Anthony Goddard, chairman of the English Vineyards Association, writing in Humberts’ Commentary earlier this year, believes that a vineyard should cover at least 10 acres to be viable. This, he says, would cost £35,000 to establish (assuming that the land was already owned); a further £20,000 should be budgeted for specialist equipment.
That done, says Goddard, properly maintained vines on 10 acres should give you 5,000 bottles in the third year after planting, building up to 30,000 after five or six years. One man can look after about 5 acres of vines, except at picking time, of course.
However, the life of a vigneron is not just pruning and picking; he has to be a sociable sort of chap, developing the tourist potential of his vineyard. People will think twice before parting with a fiver for a bottle of English wine if they taste it in a tin shed — better to build a proper tasting room, with adequate parking outside, where wine, books and other souvenirs can be displayed and sold.
He must also cope with licensing laws, trading standards officers, wine inspectors and the gentlemen from Customs and Excise, who allow him four bottles a day duty free for personal consumption and for entertaining visiting journalists.
With one or two notable exceptions (Westbury and Three Choirs, for instance), English vignerons have not mastered the art of making good, long-lasting red wine. However, several growers are now experimenting with the necessary varieties (Pinot Noir, Triomphe d’Alsace and so on) and greater pleasures are in the offing. I opened my last bottle of Westbury red (1978) last month and it was excellent; I hope its producer, Bernard Theobald, has some more tucked away.
This has indeed been a special year; some English vineyards produced 12 tons of Seyval grapes to the acre. Whether or not we can look forward to several bumper years every decade, instead of the one or two hitherto enjoyed, remains to be seen; but in the long term a vineyard is a darn site more profitable than a dairy farm, and a thousand times better than stock-car racing.
As Theobald says, he gets 10 times the revenue from a tenth of the acreage and he has a great deal of pleasure. What is more, his vineyard is growing in value as the vines mature — a truly capital liquid asset.
Instant ferment
For those unwilling to wait three years for their first crop there are a number of established vineyards currently on the market. Perhaps the most famous is Nutbourne Manor, near Pulborough in Sussex, beloved acres of Jeffrey and Alison Sanger, who are moving with their children James and Lottie to a chateau in Provence (“without a vineyard, I’m afraid”).
Sanger, a fine-art and antiques dealer, has established a large and profitable vineyard on his 30 acres (plus some trout lakes) and his manager, David Shaw, is currently extending vine planting to cover about 20 acres in all. I especially enjoyed their wine made with the Bacchus grape, an excellent variety for the English climate.
Savills are selling this labour of love, with the Georgian house, for above £1.5m. The same agents are also selling Swafield House, in Norfolk, for £400,000; the property has a Georgian house and 10 acres, with a small established vineyard.
Close to Shepton Mallet, in Somerset, there is Wraxhall Vineyard, with more than 5 acres of vines on the GDC system; varieties include Muller Thurgau, Seyval and Madeleine Angevine, all proven English champions. There is storage for 40,000 bottles — enough for several press trips. The price suggested by Knight Frank & Rutley is £450,000.
If something a little closer to London is preferred, Strutt & Parker have Three Corners Vineyard, close to Sandwich in Kent, on their books.
The owner, Colonel Charles Galbraith, deliberately planted early varieties on what is known locally as “early soil” and so was picking on his small vineyard long before his rivals this year. The price guide is £225,000.
Finally, down in Cornwall, Millers are selling Mount’s Bay Vineyard, near Penzance, with 4 acres of vines and a restaurant. A price guide of £425,000 is given.
