Grapes are trained over the eaves of the green roof of his home, built on neglected farmland owned by a friend at Brithdir Mawr. Freshly dug potatoes sit in a bucket by the door and, after nearly 10 years, the bracken still sprouts through the kitchen’s earth floor every spring. Three small solar panels and a tiny wind turbine provide power. Sometimes Wrench has to choose between his laptop or a lightbulb, but it is not a life of deprivation.
Inside is a cosy jumble of books and ornaments, sheepskins and a wood-burning stove. Beneath their raised bed is a wine cellar, well stocked with Wrench’s sweet raspberry wine. The stove heats hot water for baths. They manage without a fridge or a washing machine. And the roundness is pleasing. “Once you live in round, corners seem a bit weird,” says Faith.
The green green grass of home (Guardian)