About us

For eighteen years Antony Woodward sat in a London advertising agency sucking a pencil and trying to think up ideas for ad campaigns.  Now he sucks a pencil in an old railway carriage, halfway up a Welsh mountain, trying to write books.

Verity also worked in advertising, where one of her main occupations was wondering when the pencil-sucking ‘Creative Department’ would deliver something useful.  Now she does the same thing in Wales.

Antony grew up in Somerset, in a Modernist house, with a mother in a wheelchair—three facts he’s convinced explain his unquenchable longing to live in a remote cottage on a windswept hill-side surrounded by roaring stoves and rusty junk. (Read the book.)

Verity grew up bewitched by tales of ancestors from the western Brecon Beacons. Following childhood holidays in the Lake District, her favourite smell has always been bracken in the rain, a pleasure she's now able to enjoy, and provide for our three children, in almost unlimited amounts.

The five of us live in astonishing inconvenience up a long, pot-holed track with several gates.

We love old Land-Rovers, thunderstorms, cow parsley and being snowed in.

We're repeatedly told  we must be hopeless romantics.