Grand Designs (1999–…): Season 18, Episode 1 - Somerset Cowshed Revisit 2017 - full transcript

I've seen some pretty remarkable
projects in my time,

but have you heard the one about the
chef,

the Pilates teacher and the cow
shed?

In 2015,

Ed Versluys and Vicky Anderson began
to convert a derelict cow shed into
a

modern home to house her Pilates
studio and his cookery business.

Ed, a novice builder, was entirely
reliant on the internet for his
skills.

I'm learning. I'm learning as I go
along.

But it wasn't long before his lack
of experience showed.

It wasn't flat, basically because
I'm an absolute amateur.

The cracks started to appear,



while Ed spent his and Vicky's life
savings on off-grid technology.

I'd suddenly completely freak out
and I'd be like,

"Are we just making the biggest
mistake?"

Despite their amazing energy and
effort, the house remained
unfinished.

Their businesses, their futures,

their low-impact life were all yet
to begin.

Ed and Vicky invested everything
they had in this house,

in their off-grid future.

It's been a year since I was last
here and I'm curious to see if they

finished the house and whether their
businesses ever really took off.

But first, here's their story.

Two summers ago,

private chef Ed Versluys and Pilates
instructor Vicky Anderson met on a
dating website.

Now they're engaged and they've left
London to start a life



together in the country,

having found an old cow shed to turn
into a home in Somerset.

It was completely overgrown, full of
nettles and ivy and all sorts,

but we saw the view and it kind of
sold itself, really.

You can see how it will make a
lovely family home.

SHE LAUGHS

As it stands, there's nothing to
redeem this place.

It is ugly and it is a world away
from habitable.

Neither of us have done anything
like this before.

I'm handy, kind of DIY, and I enjoy
DIY and sort of carpentry and...

I mean, I don't want to put it down,
but the carpentry has been, like,

a couple of tables and a rose arch
and...

Yeah, but it's all the same skills.

What was your metalwork, your
barbecue?

Ah, the innocence of youth.

Oh. Hello. Hello.

How are you? Hi. Pleased to meet
you. Hello, nice to meet you. Vicky.

Nice place.

Nice place. Not too bad, is it?

No, it's not. I mean, there's
beautiful countryside.

Yeah, it's gorgeous.

And a really ugly building.

CHUCKLING

Well... We quite like it. I'm sure
you do.

SHE LAUGHS

What was it? A...shed?

Cow shed. Cow shed. Cow shed, yeah.

1940s cow shed.

So, can we have a look around? Yeah.

Can indeed, yeah.

Your, er, estate.

SHE LAUGHS

Not really estate. Come on in.
Concrete blocks.

This place is barely standing up.

It looks like it's been in the path
of a tornado.

Oh. Ooh, big, isn't it?

Inside is no better.

A long and cavernous concrete
bunker.

In its current state, it's grim and
barely worth retaining.

But on the other side of the
building, there is potential.

Oh, and down into... Oh, very
bright.

Rather bright, light space.

This is a view that was wasted on
cows.

Wow, this is something else.

This is... This is significant.

The mist is clearing now and you've
got a very long view here.

What's this going to be, then, this
large area?

What happens?

This is our main living space.

Yeah? So, you're standing now in the
kitchen.

From kitchen here, we have open-plan
into dining room.

Yeah. And then again open-plan into
sitting room space at the back.

At over 280 square metres,

this cow shed is very nearly three
times the size of the average family

home, designed with the help of a
local architect, Wiebke Rietz.

The roof has been removed,

so repairs can soon begin on the
original concrete and brick work
worth saving.

This includes five pillars which
will help support a new laminated

timber roof, covered on the north
side with eco-slates,

appropriately made from recycled
plastic milk bottle tops.

This will be an off-grid home,

generating electricity from ten
photovoltaic panels

on the south-facing
roof and storing it in batteries.

There'll be a small wind turbine to
boot, and there will be a reed bed

for sewage and a borehole for water.

The existing walls will be insulated
on the outside to exploit their

thermal mass and clad with
agricultural timber.

The north side of the building will
house Ed and Vicky's new businesses.

To the west, there will be a
workshop and coal store,

where Ed will butcher and cure meat.

On the other side, there'll be a
boot room,

shower and a Pilates studio for
Vicky.

Down a set of steps,

those expansive views will be
captured by two long set of bifold
glazed doors.

Ed wants to retain a spirit of
cow shed here.

So internal partition walls will be
built of timber and straw bales,

rendered in clay plaster, with a
posh oak floor.

Ed's chef's kitchen takes centre
stage, of course,

with a king-size working table, more
bench than island unit.

Running down the west side will be
two guest rooms and a bathroom.

To the east will sit the master
bedroom and bathroom, overlooking

the Somerset Hills.

That engagement with the landscape
continues with a terrace,

green roof and their smallholding,
with pigs, chickens and vegetables.

And who builds this now? Me.

And I have a builder called James.

There's two of us. So Ed seems
confident.

I hope James, whoever he is,

is blessed with superhuman strength
and stamina.

Because this site is apocalyptic.

The remnants of its former life as a
working cow shed are all over the
place.

What happens to all this stuff,
then, this concrete, these beams
there?

They will be absorbed into the
landscape in one way or another.

Dig a hole and bury it?

No. No!
VICKY LAUGHS

They'll be used...

Yeah, we haven't quite decided yet.
But we'll find a use for them.

So are you finding a use for
everything?

Yes. We could have knocked the build
down and it may have been simpler,

but then there would have been a lot
of waste to it and the whole point
of this is...

OK, so those old cattle feeding
troughs over there in concrete,
they'll stay?

Oh, yeah. They are the base of the
wood store for my pizza oven and
barbecue.

These former city dwellers seem to
me to be off grid pioneers here,

in search of a more sustainable,
lower-cost, simpler way of life.

What are you going to do with those
five acres? We're going to farm
animals.

We'd like to end up as
self-sufficient as possible.

What have you got, then, over in
your pens?

We have the beginning of our
homestead.
CHICKENS CLUCK

We have four lovely piglets.

Oh, do you? And we have...

And some chickens. Six. Well, we
have five chickens and one cockerel.

As a chef, you know, there's nothing
better than being able to produce

your own animals. We want...

And you're going to butcher and make
your own sausages and...?

I'm going to butcher them. I'm not
allowed to slaughter them myself.

But I'm allowed to butcher them. So
I will do all the butchery.

And that's partly why... So are you
going to take the blood?

Are you going to make black pudding
and...

Yeah. That lovely Portuguese
delicacy which is pig's ears in
vinegar?

No. We'll invite you back for that.

SHE LAUGHS

Thanks. Thanks. Just for that.

Are you happy about being down here?

Yeah, I wouldn't have done it
otherwise.

Yeah? Yeah, I'm not that much of a
pushover!

SHE LAUGHS

The land and cow shed cost them
£225,000.

Vicky has sold her flat in London to
pay for it and that's left them with

just over 200,000 to spend.

How long is it going to take you to
do?

Do you reckon? I reckon...

..I'm going for about end of August.

So six or seven months.

He'd initially wanted to be in by
the fourth of July but...

I wanted to be in by our wedding,
but, um...

You're getting married? Fourth of
July, yeah.

Fourth of July this year.

Yeah. Yes. I knew there'd be a
hitch.

SHE LAUGHS

I mean, in all senses of that word!

Well, here we disagree.

Here we fundamentally disagree.

Because I think this is a 12 to 18
month project.

Hmm, that's a bit depressing.
SHE LAUGHS

If you do well, maybe ten.

And now I don't know what to say,

cos I know you've a lot of
experience in this!
SHE LAUGHS

I'm not going to prevent it
happening.

Yeah, yeah. I'm delighted, always,
to be proven wrong. Good.

And I'm delighted to be in the
presence of great energy
and ambition.

I'm often struck how buildings
aren't just containers for human
beings.

They're also, um...

They're also vehicles that human
beings use to fully flesh out their
dreams.

That's what's happening here, so
this isn't, you know,

this isn't a barn conversion.

This is the re-imagination of Ed and
Vicky's life.

Rearing animals and running their
businesses from this place.

That's what makes it powerful, you
know, that's what makes it exciting
to be here.

Now, whether or not of course this
place becomes somewhere beautiful to

look at is sort of irrelevant.

However, Ed does have ambitions for
a beautiful, super low-energy home

which he intends to build,

learning every skill and trade from
the internet.

So, laying concrete,

I will Google laying concrete
and watch video after video until
I'm sure...

..or until I think I know how to lay
concrete.

Most of us have turned to the
internet for a few tips,

but I would not have the nerve to
rely on it to build a half million
pound house.

SAW BUZZES

By mid-March, Ed and James the
builder are strengthening and making

structural modifications to the
concrete walls of the old cow shed.

We're cutting the window openings
into the existing bark.

There's a whole new set of power
tools to master.

When I first picked it up, I didn't
know what I was doing.

I'm learning, I'm learning as I go
along.

TRUCK RATTLES

A month later comes Ed's first real
construction test -

a delivery of concrete to lay the
subfloor in Vicky's Pilates studio.

So I've got to get six cubic metres
of concrete out the truck

in half an hour.

I only have half an hour with the
truck, otherwise they start charging
me.

This is one man, his wheelbarrow and
14 tonnes to shift.

To make matters worse, there's an
April heat wave.

This concrete may set before he
manages to spread it.

It's really heavy. Yeah, very!

Yeah, but he loves races,

so he's got his own race and the
race against the clock.

He loves it, it's fine. Here we go!

He's so happy!

Today's concrete delivery proves to
be a success.

Is there much left?

About a metre?

It's been a test of Ed's newly
acquired procurement skills and his

physical ability. And he's passed.

All done.

HAMMERING

Taking on a project of this scale
with so little experience is brave.

I mean, look, they've got no project
manager, or a site supervisor.

They're learning everything they
need to from the internet.

And they're trying to deliver this
in...

28 weeks?

It's going to make their life hell,
isn't it?

STONE CLATTERS AND BANGS

Or maybe not.

It's quite a nice bedroom view,
isn't it?

Very well done.

CROWING

Two months of what is meant to be a
seven-month project

have already elapsed.

But Ed is defiant and energised -

buoyed up, perhaps,
by Vicky's faith in him.

Before we sold up, I'd say to Ed,
I'd suddenly be like,

"How do you know that we're going to
be able to do this?",

and I'd suddenly completely freak
out and I'd be like,

"Are we just making the biggest
mistake?

"Are you definitely going to be able
to do this?"

And he'd just be like,
"Yeah, I can, I promise you.

"I wouldn't do it if
I didn't think I could."

He wouldn't do something stupid

and risk such a huge amount
on something he wasn't sure about.

I guess that's why
I have faith in him.

Both Ed and Vicky have left
urban life behind.

They're adapting to extreme rural
life together.

I'm not daunted by what,
sort of, the country life

is going to bring to us.

I quite like a challenge,

and this is sort of the next
challenge, really.

Vicky's faith in Ed is touching

but his inexperience
has been exposed.

He's had a visit from Building
Control and they don't like

what he's done with his
double skin blockwork.

We have tied the two walls
together every three blocks

instead of every two, which building
regs picked up on earlier this week.

The cost of this mistake is minimal
but the time lost is precious.

They have to drill holes
in the new walls

and install new ties,
as per regs.

Ed can do without these cock-ups

if he's to keep this project
on schedule.

You've been busy.
You've consolidated the stacks here,

built these up and... We've got
everything ready for the roof now.

That's what we've been working on.
It looks like it's ready.

Ready for the team to come in
and put the roof on. Yeah?

When's that happening? Next Monday,
and they should be here

for four weeks,
doing all the roofing.

'Our internet whiz kid
has wisely decided

'to leave the roof to the experts.

'There's more than enough for him
to be getting on with.

'Vicky, however, has her mind
on other things.'

What are you doing in that time?
Are you...? We are doing...

I'm going to be preparing
for the wedding!

SHE CHUCKLES

You're going to have the wedding
reception here? No.

No. It would be ideal. Get a roof
on it, save on a tent then.

We're not having a tent.
We're having it in a barn.

OK. Because we can't
get enough of barns.

Good, good. As I said,
it's minimal decoration,

minimal expense on the wedding...

More money straight into
the project. Yeah, sort of.

Yeah. Don't, don't! You're
touching on a sore subject, OK?

I'm needling here. Six weeks away!
Needling!

I do not envy Vicky or Ed for the
stress they're piling on themselves.

Despite the apparent simplicity of
this project, it is very large.

Just over a week later,
Ed is taking delivery

of his second, considerably bigger
concrete pour.

It's to cover a vast
200 square metres of floor space,

forming the new subfloor.

This is where I would perhaps
bring in the professionals.

But, once again, Ed's gambling that
he's learned enough about concrete

to pull it off.

There's also a new gadget to master.

It's called a magic screeder.

It's the first time
I've ever used one,

and it's requiring a bit
of practice.

This concrete will help stabilise
the old structure

and provide a firm base
for an insulated floor

and the new internal walls.

Hey, good morning. I've been getting
a whole load of concrete.

I was wondering if
it's possible to send

an additional four
on top of that.

All right. Actually, wait. Can we
make that five instead of four?

Just in case.

Ed's starting to sound like a pro.

I've been trying to figure out
why Ed is so good at building.

He's sort of slipped almost
effortlessly into this role

of master builder, and I think
I have the answer.

It's because he's very adept in
handling materials.

He's tactile, he's physical,
he's used to standing on his feet

and working hard all day.

He can mix materials and understand
how they're put together,

and he's got an eye, he's got
a sense of aesthetics, as well.

In other words, he's a chef!

GUESTS CHATTER

It's now early June and Ed's
determined to have the roof on

by the time of the wedding,
just over three weeks away.

Bang on schedule,
the roofing crew gets going.

The roof is a ?41,000 wedding
present to themselves -

a whopping one fifth
of their whole budget.

The giant glulam beams supporting
the roof must rest

on Ed's rebuilt brick stacks.

But there's been a slight
lack of precision here

and the stacks are all
different heights.

These two are level. That one's low.

The two end ones are high.
So, it's sort of...

This requires ingenuity and some
last-minute on-site adjustments

by the roofing company.

But it's not long before the
multi-angled, super insulated

waterproof skinned roof is up.

Vicky has to leave the cow shed
behind for a day

to complete a vital part
of her other project.

Oh, don't cry!

WOMEN GIGGLE

Major taking in on Friday.

Back onsite, the pressures of
the project are catching up on Ed.

I spend all my time thinking
about the build.

Every night, I almost go to sleep
repeating the next month

or the next three months of stages
of where I need to be at

and what needs to happen where.

And every day I repeat that
to myself time and time again.

The wedding is just days away
and now Ed has a problem

with his vast concrete floor.

Because we decided to concrete
the house ourselves,

we didn't get a perfectly
level surface,

so where there are little dips
and bumps

we're pouring a self-levelling
compound

to make it all nice and flat.

It wasn't flat, basically cos
I'm an absolute amateur.

But I salute Ed's amateur status.

He'll roll his sleeves up
and have a go!

He's off to the local
sheep shed to try to transform it

into their wedding barn,
taking his enthusiasm with him,

leaving James behind.

Still quite a way off being done
and he just thinks it's going to be,

like, a couple of weeks and they'll
be able to move in. Uh-huh.

So it's just so much work.
All those ceilings,

they're, like,
three-and-a-half metre ceilings.

What you're discovering now
is that the scale of every job

is so much bigger because
of the surface area.

Yeah. Everything's just massive,

absolutely massive
in the whole house.

I won't keep you any longer.
Jump on your digger. Go.

HE LAUGHS

Plenty of work to be doing.

He is, of course, right.

I mean, nobody, not even Ed
and Vicky, really believed

that they would've moved in
before their wedding,

but the deadline they've given
themselves is hilarious

given the amount of work
there is yet to do.

Christmas?

Do we think? Christmas?

You look gorgeous. Ready?

The big day has arrived
in Somerset.

So long as you both shall live?

I will.

The wedding was amazing.
It was really, really great.

Everyone really clubbed together and
everyone had a great time,

we were dancing until five and

it was...yeah, it was amazing,
wasn't it?

Yeah. A leading question!

Yeah!

Yes. Yes.

Yes, yes, it was. Yes, it was!

Well worth taking time away
from the build for.

Oh, good! I'm pleased.

Three weeks of their seven month
schedule have been eaten up with

their wedding and honeymoon.

You can't blame them.

It's just nice to be back.

Fully concentrating, pushing,
see the finish line almost.

Their roof is now weather-tight and
ready for the solar power system.

Ah, bloody...

The first step towards off-grid
power is surprisingly simple.

The solar panels sit in plastic
trays weighed down with rubble

recycled from the site, all sitting
on a reassuringly strong roof.

I've always liked the idea of
being off-grid.

Quite a fan of zombie films and that
kind of motivates me to be off-grid.

I like the post-apocalyptic thing
and films and books to do with it

and I like the idea that if there
was some huge calamity

that I could be all right.

Now, look, I'm not expecting zombies
to arrive in Somerset,

but I share Ed's love of the
off-grid life, albeit the
solutions here,

including panels, batteries,
turbine, control system

and back-up generator, come to
a costly ?26,000.

I've persuaded Vicky.

I've sort of convinced everyone
that being off-grid's the right way,

the right path to follow.

So, if it's not, it's my head on
the block!

Yes!

It works.

It's awesome.

The advantages of this technology
are, of course, free,

super-low carbon electricity and
water, and no utility bills.

But it isn't good enough to simply
source the off-grid energy,

Ed has to safeguard it.

Water is one of those magical
materials on the planet.

As well as being heavy, having high
mass, it also has high thermal mass.

That means it takes a long while to
heat up and cool down.

It can store large quantities of
heat, which is precisely why we put

water, when it's heated,
into one of these to keep us warm

and cosy in those winter nights.

Of course, if you do this with
really hot water from the kettle,

you know, you'll make a hot
water bottle,

which is really too hot to touch.

But you'll know equally, of
course, from doing that,

that if you then put your hot water
bottle inside its own little cosy,

it keeps the heat inside, it acts as
an insulator, and as a result,

it doesn't feel quite so hot
to touch.

Which is exactly what Ed is doing,
look, to the side of his house.

He's got this concrete structure,
that's his thermal mass,

which is keeping him warm in winter
and cool in summer.

It's storing a lot of energy
in it and in order to stop

that energy from escaping
to the outside world,

he's covering the
building with, look,

a good eight inches
of this thick insulation,

in front of which will be the
cladding here.

If you like, he's providing the
building with its very own cosy,

its very own little, um...

comfort blanket.

It's now the beginning of August and
the pigs are coming along a treat.

However, Ed and Vicky, in their
race to the finish,

have suffered a series of blows.

There's been a hitch with the
drilling of the borehole, so
there's no water.

The windows are meant to be
delivered today but they
haven't turned up yet.

And the landlady wants the flat back
where they're living.

All things which are out of
their control.

There's no architects I can
blame, there's no...no anyone,

there's no building contractor,

there's no-one I can kind of turn to
to be like, "Oh, you've done this."

It's my fault if it goes wrong.

Ed takes everything as a challenge
and he loves a challenge,

it's what he thrives on, so this,
to him,

has been sort of one long
endurance race, basically.

So it's, yes, the pressure is on a
little bit.

One reclaimed cooker hood will not a
kitchen make,

but it's a small step towards that
finish line that Vicky dreams of.

Does that look in the middle? I know
it's bent, it's slightly skewwhiff.

Well, shall we measure it and see?

I have measured it. But measure it
again now it's up? OK.

Vicky's faith in Ed is being
stretched by one thing -

his insistence on straw bales for
the majority of the internal walls.

Straw's a lovely thing.

And it's a great material.

It's local, it comes from two
fields away.

It's easy to put together.

I'm not a professional builder and
you don't need to be a professional
builder to build with straw.

Straw and bamboo stakes and
clay and that's pretty much

all you need to build a wall, which
I really, really like.

The bales are spiked,

stitched and rammed into place in a
lightweight timber frame,

but Ed isn't exploiting them for
their insulation.

I would argue that we could do
without the straw bales because then

we'd have an extra sort of metre
in each room.

The pile's disappearing.

If I had my way, probably we would
just have stud walls,

but he really wants them.

It's still a very high
doorway, like...

Yeah, but I think that's quite cool.

I just think it's too high, darling.

Vicky is right.

The external insulation of this
place is made from petroleum
chemicals.

The straw bales are just for show.

But this method does allow for a
family fun day out, or rather, week.

Everyone is drafted in to apply
a plaster of pure clay.

The internet-sourced technique is to
work thin layers into the straw to

reinforce the drying clay and keep
it from cracking.

What he's got here is, he's got his
wife, his mother, his mother-in-law,

his honorary godmother, all on
one project.

Somebody's using my marigolds so I
can't do any!

Despite the cheeriness of
the workers,

this is slow technology,

which slams the brakes on a
supposedly fast project.

Well, I think you probably
want to put a top coat on all of it.

So do the bottom coat as this?

Yeah, yeah, yeah. And then a
slightly smoother topcoat and then
you'll get the lovely undulation.

Yeah. Without all the kind
of uh-uh-uh.

SHE SNIGGERS
You know what I'm saying, don't you?

Little more uh-uh-uh-uh.

At this rate, this'll take months.

Ed is now honing more newly-acquired
skills - plaster boarding,

plumbing and running cables.

But one thing he can't perfect is
the delivery of the windows.

It's hugely frustrating.
We were promised the windows

a month and a half ago, at the
beginning of August,

and if they'd been in at the right
time, we could have

had the floors down by now, we could
have, yeah, been almost finished.

And... But we can't do those things
until the windows are in.

Massive downer. Everything else has
been relatively smooth and this is

the one thing that's thrown a
massive spanner in the works.

And while Ed waits, his building
grows and sprouts.

His straw walls have cracked and are
turning into a living structure.

At the moment, it looks a bit
like the, um...

..salt lake, doesn't it?

Skin of a rhino.

Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah. But you're
not too fazed by that?

You're OK? I'm...

..seesawing.

I mean, I know that your wife's not
here today.

No, she's not. So, what's her,
what's...? Does she like this?

She is not the biggest fan of
straw bales and clay.

Because she wasn't the biggest fan
in the first place, was she?

No. She doesn't like the cracks.

She would like a seamless...

And also, I suspect what'll
happen is the building dries out

and over six months it cracks again
a bit because the humidity level

will drop again and it'll open up
a bit.

That's the deal with clay.

It doesn't have to be smooth, it
can be bumpy.

But she just doesn't want the
cracks? No.

Ed has constantly surprised me
with this project,

achieving terrific results with just
his wits, his effort,

his talent and his reliance on the
internet for research.

On the other hand, he has only two
weeks to go

before his self-imposed
deadline for finishing the project.

Now, he has the slimmest chance of
achieving that.

Then again, pigs might fly.

When Ed and Vicky started to rebuild
their remote concrete cow shed in

Somerset, no-one really knew
how well it would turn out.

So, on my last visit, a year ago, I
had little idea of what to expect.

Well, outstanding!

I mean, this is the
pioneer's homestead.

Not so much Little House On The
Prairie, more, um...

big house on the hill.

Outside, the house was a
timber-clad reward

for Ed and Vicky's hard graft
and vision.

Inside, it was a different story.

Oh, you've done a few things.

It's not fully furnished yet.
We're getting there!

And there was a long snagging list.

I told you to pull it down!

This, guvnor, came off in me hand!

The house suggested it was
tantalisingly close to completion,

but it was nowhere near.

They had missed their ludicrously
ambitious seven-month deadline to be

open for business, but you could see
the potential of the place.

It is gonna be great, isn't it?

It will be lovely.

It's just we've got to kind of focus
on the other bits first and then

we'll turn this into my dream
studio. Yeah.

Looking forward to sort of seeing
your businesses flourish here and

I'm imagining that, you know, a
couple of years from now,

you'll be teaching Pilates out
here on the deck. Yeah.

How amazing would that be?
And then in the evening you'd be
cooking for a bunch of people.

Yeah, that's the plan.

I wanted to see the connection
between this place,

these people and this
building completed.

I wanted their off-grid adventure
to flourish.

I wanted to see the smallholding,

Ed's cookery business and Vicky's
Pilates practice all take off.

I had to come back.

This project was always 50% naivety,
50% raw, pure energy,

and what a quixotic combination.

It's been a year since I was last
here and I'm very curious to see how

Ed and Vicky's great off-grid
adventure is going.

'On my last visit a year ago,

'Ed and Vicky's house
was barely more than a shell

'and the newlyweds hadn't moved in.

'But, a year on, this seems a home
with no trace of decrepit cow shed.

'It is now...

'..full of promise.

'The Douglas fir cladding really
does suggest that idea

'of pioneering, hilltop homestead.

'The recycled milk bottle-top roof,
however,

'suggests something sharper
and more organised.

'The house is finished
and they're now in,

'but is this home also ready
for business?'

Hello? Hello!

Oh, hello. Hello, Kevin. Hello.

Good to see you, Ed.
Good to see you. And you.

How long have you been here?
Nine months.

So, yeah, getting into ten. So,
what, round about Christmas time?

Yeah, we moved in on the 23rd.

Of December? Yeah.
What a nice Christmas present.

It was great. And was it,
you got it all, kind of, sorted?

Yeah. By Christmas, it was sorted.

Ish. Pretty good.

I can see floors laid, I can see,
it's sort of enticing.

You'll have to come on in. No,
it looks... Come and have a look.

It looks suspiciously established.

HE CHUCKLES

'I am on tenterhooks
to see this place...'

Well, now, this is very nice.

'..and it doesn't disappoint.'

Floors down. Yeah.

Decorated. It's full of homely goods
and lovely furniture.

The kitchen's properly finished.

Nothing comes off in my hand,
I hope.

No. No.

It's all good.

'This is not cool,
slick architecture,

'but it is cow-lick architecture.

'The creative re-use of a building

'that celebrates all
the old cow shed had to offer,

'with a deck and views that cows
surely never fully appreciated.'

'Guest rooms await those lucky
enough to be invited.'

'And remember, with just a smidge
of professional input

'from their architect, this is all
Vicky's and Ed's own work,

'built with their own hands,
often from whatever was available.

'Nothing went to waste here.'

It's good to see the old cow shed

still sort of, you know, poking
its nose, its wet nose through!

Yeah. Here and there.

The walls and piers,
which is lovely and proper.

Are you happy living here?

Yeah, very happy.

That's good. Yeah.

Oh, yeah.

'This is, of course, no longer cow
shed, but a super-insulated home,

'devised for two resilient,
progressive people.

'Ed and Vicky are
completely off-grid,

'relying solely on the wind, the sun

'and a backup generator
when necessary.'

How much do you miss the grid?

That was very directed at me,
wasn't it? Yeah, it was, actually.

I miss it when there are times that,
for whatever reason,

the generator might be playing up,
and I'll sort of kick Ed out of bed

at one o'clock in the morning,
because I know that the generator's

doing something wrong,
and there are times when I -

and I've said to you, haven't I -
that I don't trust the house.

Ooh! That's sometimes
what was quite hard. Yeah.

When it works well, it's amazing.

There's a huge amount of
satisfaction

when you've gone through
an entire day

and you've managed to
have the oven on,

do a couple of washes,
had the dishwasher on,

and you've done it all
through the power of the sun,

which is really very satisfying.

Wow. Yeah.

I like this house very much, because
it's a sort of meeting of rural

cow shed with rural modern living.

Weird, crazy, Moominland walls.

And that, that's the bit
that you never got.

That was the step too far for you,
wasn't it?

The bit we did in your bedroom,
can we have a look at that? Yeah.

'The clay walls may be contentious,
but I was always a fan,

'especially in their natural,
rhino-skin state,

'which can still be seen around
the building.

'In the master bedroom,
the walls are at least painted,

'if still a little lumpy.'

Oh, your bedroom's all done.
Very established. It's lovely.

The bedroom is finished, yeah.

What's it's like, then, erm,
sleeping with this thing

towering over you at night?

It's a bit like being in a cave,
really.

Yes. Albeit a cave with a view.

Yeah. A very lovely cave.

Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah.
No, a nice cave. It's a good thing.

This I like, the texture is amazing.

Good to hear you say those words.

"This I like."

I didn't think it was that amazing
when we first moved in

and there were rodents
living in the straw bale walls.

Which rodents?

Probably the larger kind.

You could hear them sort of pulling
at the straw at night.

Does this carry on into the
bathroom? Yeah. Is this the same...

Oh, can we see?

How's that?

Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah.

Hey, hey!

Wall of cave.

And this is pretty...

theatrical.

It was sort of the only way
we could have a mirror.

What, cos you can't fix to
that wall? Yeah.

Got to hang it off the roof.

So, all these fixtures and fittings
are very lovely, but...

where's your water come from?

It comes from the sky.
You collect rain water.

Really? In significant quantities?

Yes. So far, it's worked, yeah.

'After three failed attempts
at drilling boreholes,

'rainwater
was the only choice left.

'Stored in two underground,
10,000-litre tanks,

'the water is pumped back
into the house

'for all of Ed and Vicky's
household needs.'

Do you sit there with apps,
checking weather, and, you know?

Oh, yeah. Yeah. Really?
We get excited when it rains.

Yeah. How charming is that?

Actually, that's great, isn't it?

You see a dark cloud coming
and you get excited.

And what do you do for flushing
the toilets?

Pull the chain.

And also, we have a very, sort of...

relaxed policy
on flushing the toilet.

If it's yellow, let it mellow.

Yeah, basically. Very much so.

If it's brown, flush it down.

Most of the time, yeah.

Most?

'Ed and Vicky's off-grid life
will save them money.

'The businesses should,
of course, earn money.

'I'm especially interested in
becoming a customer of one of them.'

What is this? This is a reformer.

Phew, wow!

I thought that when I was coming
for a bit of Pilates,

that it would be involving a mat.

Yeah, we thought we'd get you on the
reformer and see what you think.

And some, you know,
standing in strange poses.

As you can tell,
I know nothing about Pilates.

I do know a little bit about
buildings and, I have to say,

this is a beautiful room.

You know, look, bits of the old
concrete cow shed here. Yeah.

These rafters,

supporting the roof, still visible.

Still in place, yeah.
Aren't they wonderful?

OK. So, Vicky, do your worst.

All right, ready? Yeah.

OK. What do we do?

OK, so take a breath in.

Then breathe out.

Now hold the weight of the springs
in this strap.

Just keep your knees bent for now.

Open to the side.

Lower the legs.

Good, drawing in through
the abdominals.

Every now and then, you look pained.

It's just a function of age.

See, if I came here and did a
session with you,

got in my car and drove home,

I think I'd crash into a tree
on the way back.

Well, no, you're relaxed
at the moment,

but I would make you work a bit
harder in a full session.

LAUGHING: OK!

I'm just kidding.

'Pilates is just one component
of the business plan.

'In the lower half of the house,
Ed runs his domain.

'Once a month, supper club brings
paying diners to the veranda

'for a three-course meal prepared
by Ed in his outdoor oven,

'using ingredients sourced locally
or from the land.'

I think Ed and Vicky have done just
a fabulous job here

in terms of turning it into just
a beautiful home

and taking advantage of the
site and the location.

It's all got so much flavour

and when you can actually see
where it's coming from,

it just gives a whole other
dimension to your plate of food

and the whole experience.

Ed's cooking is kind of a nouveau
rustic Somerset chic.

LAUGHTER

'This house, like all really
good houses,

'is an exemplar
of ways of doing things

'Frugality, lifestyle
and the things that matter.'

In the end, you built it
in how many months?

From the day that we got the land
to moving in, in ten months.

Fantastic. And for how much?

Do you know?

It's a grey figure, but about...

..just under ?250,000.

250, which is very respectable.

You two strike me as very normal,
ordinary, professional people.

You do not strike me as two
evangelical eco-warriors,

who are out there championing
sustainability

and an off-grid lifestyle.

I know that there are some people
who haven't been here

who kind of think that we live sort
of on a commune and kind of grubby.

There's someone who always likes to
ask me if I've showered today.

Oh, yeah? I say, of course I have.
You know, I'm not...

You're very clean. He's... I'm very
clean. Yeah. He's slightly grubby.

Questionable. I'll live with that.

But, people are sort of surprised to
know that, no, we do wash every day

and we have a dishwasher and
washing machine and tumble dryer.

You know, I think that we're not
trying to get everyone

to live in this way. I think it's
just a nice way of showing

that it is possible and it's not
actually that difficult.

How long does this last?

Forever. We're not going anywhere.

I've got acorns turning
into oak trees in pots out there

that I plan on planting
in five years' time,

that I can draw in 50 years' time.

I'm not leaving this house.

No, no. No. No, it's forever.

What about each other? What have you
learnt about him through this?

Oh, that he's got the most
incredible patience.

He's very patient with me
and - well, not just with me,

but with the build.

What have you learnt about Vicky?

I've said really nice things.
You have to say nice things.

Yeah, you have.
I'll have to think about it.

She says I'm patient with her.

She's also patient with me.

I had to put her...I put her
through quite a lot,

building the house.

Yeah. I think she must love me.

I know it's a bit cheesy, but, like,

I learned that.

'Ed and Vicky have a lifetime ahead
of them to enjoy and love this place

'and work this land.

'Should we be jealous of them?

'Yes, I think we should.'

Winston Churchill said that we
shape our buildings

and they then shape us.

Which suggests, well,
not just a contract,

but a relationship between
us and what we build,

and I've never seen that idea
evinced more beautifully than here,

because Ed and Vicky nurtured
this building into being,

and they continue to provide for it.

They continue to make sure
it has all the resources it needs,

rather like looking after
a family member, you know?

And it, in return, well,
it then provides for them.

It nurtures and nourishes them.

It's a symbiotic relationship that
puts them in touch with the land,

this place, the environment,

and it defines, in its most complete
sense, the word home.