I’m converted! How filming A Year in the Life of a Vineyard changed my life…
just a little bit.
No, I didn’t need converting to wine or bubbles, I’ve always loved both. But filming
over a year at the Candover Brook vineyard did shift something in me.
In the summer of 2023, I was asked to follow a year in the life of my local vineyard,
from harvest 2023 to harvest 2024, and to document the people and the land behind
the wines. I’ve made documentaries and short films for most of my life, travelling
widely and meeting extraordinary people along the way. So, I imagined this would be
a gentle project: a visit once a month, a quiet observation of the vine’s cycle, and a
few beautiful, sun-drenched shots of chalky slopes. How wrong I was.
You can watch the film here on our Candover Brook YouTube channel
Harvest: lesson one, get fit
Harvest 2023 was a good one. The sun had shone, the vines were heavy with fruit,
and for three days I raced up and down the slopes capturing the hard-working team
of pickers. It was an immediate eye-opener: just how much work goes into a
vineyard, and how much of it is still done by hand. Lesson one? I needed to get fit.
The harvest was bountiful with 50 tonnes gathered. At the end, a glass of sparkling
wine was poured, a toast raised, and the coming year welcomed in.
Then came the truly English weather
And then the weather changed.
The winter wasn’t especially cold, but spring was relentlessly wet. Snails, slugs, and
more than a few worried looks. Any idea I had of idyllic slopes bathed in golden
sunlight quickly disappeared. And I didn’t just visit once a month as there was too
much going on, too much to record. The vineyard became a second home, come
rain or shine… mostly rain.
Candover Brook hasn’t chosen the easy route. The vineyard is planted with classic
Champagne clones, high-quality, complex, and not always naturally comfortable in
England’s moodier climate. And 2023–2024 was set to be a very English year.
Those vines are under the care of Samuel Philippot, the French vineyard manager,
whose job is not only to nurture them, but to do so as thoughtfully as possible, with
approaches ranging from compost teas to sheep’s wool. Set within a wider
regenerative farm, the vineyard pushes for resilience in the plants and the land
around them, believing that hard work in the vineyard can lead to better fruit, and
ultimately, more compelling wine.
From the awards Candover Brook has won since its first release in 2022, that
philosophy may well be paying off. But this year felt like one of the toughest yet.
What I learned: soil changes everything
I embarked on a fascinating (if very damp) twelve months learning about soil,
biodiversity, and the idea that if you support the land well, nature can do more of the
work itself.
I hadn’t realised just how far-reaching soil health is, how it connects to farming,
climate, and the future of what we drink. Co-founder Mark Sainsbury is passionate
about provenance and sustainability (he also co-founded the Sustainable Restaurant
Association), and that thinking runs through the vineyard: asking questions about
how things are grown, how they’re made, and how choices ripple outward.
Along the way I learned about carbon sequestration and met pioneers in
regenerative farming, including an amusing but serious conversation with Andy Cato
of Wildfarmed (and Groove Armada fame) about how soil touches everything: the
food we eat, the clothes we wear, the air we breathe. It left me thinking that many of
our assumptions about farming and food production need to change, and fast.
A vineyard connected to a wider landscape
What surprised me most was how many communities and landscapes Candover
Brook touches.
Through the year, the project took me beyond the vineyard rows: into Hampshire’s
woods, crafts and local food culture, and into conversations about the wider
ecosystem that supports the valley. I also learned more about the chalk stream that
gives Candover Brook its name and the importance of caring for local rivers, not just
for trout and watercress, but for everything they sustain.
One of the most memorable threads was learning about the endangered, white-
clawed crayfish, a small, unsung creature whose presence says so much about the
health of our waterways. I spoke to experts at Hampshire and Isle of Wight Wildlife
Trust, and to the team at Marwell Zoo, who run a breeding programme helping
protect this species. It was one of those moments where you realise: everything impacts everything.
The craft: decisions you don’t see in the glass
Back at the vineyard, I watched the year unfold, the highs and lows, disease
pressure, pests, and the constant work behind the scenes. I also filmed the team
tasting and discussing blends with Hervé Jestin, a true hero in biodynamic
winemaking, as he worked through pressing fractions and possibilities with
astonishing focus. I can’t pretend I understood every detail… but I felt the
seriousness of it.
Then the harvest arrived again, delayed and delayed as everyone waited for even a
little sunshine to ripen the grapes, and for the rain to pause long enough to hold
disease at bay. It just about did, but it was a difficult, smaller harvest for many
vineyards across England.
The moments I’ll never forget
And the best bits?
Sitting alone at dawn at the top of the slope, waiting for the sun to rise over newly
bursting buds and leaves, camera ready, the valley still.
Or turning up at 2am with a team of vineyard locals to light candles at the bottom of
the slope, helping shift the air, raise the temperature, and protect delicate buds from
frost. As the candle oil gurgled and owls and foxes called in the dark, I learned to
slow down.
To look.
To listen.
To notice nature working all around me.
It changed my life… just a little bit.
And I raise a glass of Candover Brook to that.