Wellies, Work & Weekends: The Double Life of a Farmer- Builder -Teacher-Cabin Owner
Colleagues at school like to joke that I have a double life. One minute, I’m delivering assemblies on resilience and pastoral care; the next, I’m knee-deep in a muddy field, coaxing a stubborn Zwartbles sheep to cooperate. It’s a contrast that still makes me chuckle—especially when I forget which life I’m in and turn up to school with hay in my hair or a faint aroma of woodsmoke clinging to my coat. (I tell myself it’s rustic charm; the students are less convinced.)
Monday to Friday: The Teacher Mode
During the week, my life is timetabled down to the last minute. Lessons to teach, students to support, emails to answer, and the ever-present expectation of being an organised professional. My colleagues see the planner-wielding, PowerPoint-prepared, duty-rota-following version of me. They don’t see the early morning livestock check or the fact that I left home before sunrise after wrestling a jammed gate open in the rain. The minute that last gate is closed behind me, I am a teacher.
Despite my best intentions, I always have the dirtiest shoes in the staffroom. That’s what comes of driving down a farm track in the dark, hopping out to open (and shut) two gates, and only realising halfway through the morning briefing that my sensible work shoes have a fine coating of farm life clinging to them. I’ve tried to keep a “clean shoes” plan, but somehow, the wellies-to-flats transition never quite goes to plan.
Once inside, it’s straight into teacher mode—parent meetings, student support and guidance, and a carefully prepared geography lesson on sustainability or migration. One moment, I’m helping a student navigate the challenges of school life, and the next, I’m delivering a passionate lecture on global population shifts—while mentally writing a to-do list for the cabin changeover that evening. All the while, I try to ignore the faint scent of woodsmoke clinging to my coat and the nagging suspicion that there’s still hay in my hair.
Evenings & Weekends: The Farm & Cabin Life
The moment I set foot on the farm, the transformation is complete. The heels (okay, sensible flats) are kicked off, and the wellies are on. There’s a cabin to prepare, sheep to check, and a never-ending list of jobs that seem to have multiplied while I was at work. Evenings involve lighting the wood-fired hot tub, tweaking the sauna setup, or answering last-minute guest questions like, “How do you get the perfect bath salts to water ratio?” (Answer: intuitively, like all great things.)
Meanwhile, my husband is deep in some new construction project, emerging periodically from his workshop covered in sawdust, holding up a beautiful hand-crafted door or a quirky new addition to the cabin. It’s a rhythm of life that works, albeit with a touch of chaos.
The Great Crossover Moments
The two worlds collide in amusing ways. I’ve taken work calls while hiding in a lambing shed, written lesson plans in a field while guests sip wine on the deck, and answered urgent school emails while standing in a meadow, trying to persuade a sheep that, no, the grass isn’t greener on the other side of the fence. There was also the memorable time I had to explain to a parent why I was answering their email so late—because I’d been birthing a lamb. (Priorities.)
Why I Love It (Despite the Chaos)
Yes, it’s a juggle. Yes, it’s exhausting. But it’s also wonderful. I get the structure and challenge of teaching, the freedom and fresh air of the farm, and the creative joy of welcoming people to our cabin retreat. Not to mention the satisfaction of seeing my husband’s beautiful craftsmanship bring character and charm to everything we build.
So if you ever see a woman in the supermarket wearing smartish clothing, wellies, and hay in her hair—just nod in understanding. Some of us weren’t made for just one life.