Cheers to the WI.

After five years and countless talks around my home county of Shropshire, it’s time for me to pack up my doilies, hang up my gingham table cloth and take myself off the WI speaker list. This might not seem like a big deal, I’m supposed to be running an international business selling tens of thousands of bottles of wine a year, but the WI has been a constant presence since I started Paso-Primero. Even though they only cropped up sporadically through my year, it will feel strange not having a list of trips to remote village halls stuck to the back of my calendar.

They may not have been the most lucrative endeavours but I’m building a business from scratch and getting the chance to regularly pour my wines and tell my story was vital in helping me shape an identity for the business. Like a stand-up comic hustling the open mic spots to hone their first 5 minutes, it was a chance to see what bits of the story worked. The fact that I got to do it in the slightly mad, often hilarious but always friendly world of the WI, just adds to how much these five years of talks mean to me. God knows I got some good stories out of it.

Maesbury WI

My life as a WI speaker started much like it carried on; flying by the seat of my pants and massively underestimating the scale of the organisation. On a friend’s recommendation I was invited to pitch my story of becoming a winemaker to the Shropshire Federation. An ominous name but I was expecting a room of half-a-dozen, kindly faced ladies ready for a quick chat about wine. I strolled in for my 11.50am chat at a very leisurely 11.45am and was greeted by some panic stricken women, unable to comprehend that I’d left it so late. I had no idea what the issue was until they ushered me into a room of what felt like a hundred people, all staring expectantly at this scruffy man who’d strolled in holding a single bottle of wine. ‘Well, I think I’ve misjudged this’ I proclaimed while nervously surveying the scene. Thankfully this, along with my wide-eyed disbelief at the magnitude of the room, was met with a rumble of laughter and I was able to compose myself for a whistle stop run through my journey from shelf stacker to wine maker. Maybe it was my unorthodox approach which helped get me listed as a speaker but one way or another they liked me enough to list me, and the requests for talks started to roll in.

I’ve got loads of stories from my talks. The WI is truly a world unto itself and rarely has a meeting passed without adding a new reason to love it even more. It’s easy to see why an organisation that’s over a hundred years old is open to a bit of ridicule but amongst the hours of committee discussions on bulb planting, coffee mornings, bus trips and impending quiz nights I’ve heard countless reports of charity fundraisers and community projects. It could easily be pegged as a bit naff or kitsch but I’ve seen a side of rural life that is utterly charming and caring. And it’s not all ‘Jam and Jerusalem’. I got to one meeting and they’d forgone the need for admin in favour of greeting me with jugs of sangria and flamenco music (some of them were two drinks deep before I’d even started so, unsurprisingly, we had a great night).

I’ve judged best postcard competitions and drawn raffles in village halls across the county and been offered more tea and cake than I could eat in a lifetime. Sure it’s frustrating waiting to get double verification on your payment and I’m not sure anybody really needs to hear the minutes of the previous meeting in quite so much detail but the groups are all remarkably well attended and cater for a demographic that possibly isn’t catered for anywhere else.

The WI meeting starter pack.

I think the story that most captures the magic of the WI was at a recent meeting where the night started with a heart-warming eulogy to a member’s husband who had passed away a few days earlier. This was poignant enough but she was there, at the meeting. Three days after her husband had died she’d come out on a windy Thursday evening to be with her friends. And without skipping a beat, the meeting moved on to where the signup sheet for the fish supper had gone. A moment of such gut-wrenching, heart-breaking, comedic perfection that it felt like I was in a Caroline Aherne sit com. But that sort of sums it all up. They weren’t being flippant or dismissive. They were carrying on with the meeting and providing a slice of normality and community when someone needed it most. Even if that level of gear shift would have troubled a Rolls Royce.

I hope that people who attended the talks have gone on to become loyal Paso-Primero drinkers and bought hundreds of bottles but to be honest, it was nice to be part of something bigger than a blatant sales pitch. My industry is feeling like a cold, price-focused world at the moment with little room for sentiment and I’m still figuring out if I can survive in it. The nights where I could share the story behind the wine and open up about the difficulties, the risks taken and the passion that goes into every bottle, were a great reminder of why we took this project on. So thanks WI, it’s been a pleasure spending some time with you all.