We first set eyes on the mill in 1989. One of us wandered down the millstream and, quite simply, fell in love. At the time, the property wasn’t particularly pretty, lots of concrete, and a bit rough round the edges, but there was something in the air, something full of possibility. We bought it and thought, “What now?”

We began with four modest apartments for summer lets, but May and September were dreadfully quiet. Back in London, we happened to mention this to a colleague, who suggested we try running an art course. They knew a painting tutor. We knew nothing about such things, but we gave it a go. One course in May, one in September. And so it began.

Then we did two in May, and two in September. Before long, we were offering 20 courses a year, mostly painting, but eventually writing, knitting, and even Italian language.

Bill and Lois tending to the garden.

Some expansions were happy accidents. Knitting, for instance, began because a painting tutor cancelled. A friend suggested we try a knitting course. We laughed. Knitting? Really? But we gave it a go, and the response was astonishing. Our first tutor was the marvellous Marie Wallin, and the course filled within 12 hours. It seems many of our guests, particularly women, had been knitting in stolen moments, late at night, in secret, almost guiltily. Here at the mill, they found permission to indulge, to create openly and joyfully.

We always say our core value is “convivial creativity”. That sense of being welcomed, of being able to be yourself, while learning something new and meeting kindred spirits. One of our favourite quotes is from W.B. Yeats:

“There are no strangers here, only friends who haven’t yet met.”

We think that sums it up rather well.

Of course, there have been challenges. The pandemic was particularly brutal, from 250 guests to just five in a single year. But we came back, slowly but surely, held up by the loyalty of our tutors and the warmth of our returning guests. Some have visited more than 20 times. They don’t just come for the painting or knitting. They come for the community.

The Watermill is nearly finished now, if such a thing can ever be said of a labour of love. We’ve restored the buildings, added beautiful bedrooms, improved the interiors. We’ve even gone green: our electricity comes from photovoltaic panels, and we partner with Ocean Bottle and WellBoring to do our bit for the planet.

Our daughter Lydia has joined us, bringing fresh ideas and a vision for the future. We’re even thinking about taking the Watermill ethos elsewhere, perhaps Morocco or Kerala. But no matter where we go, that spirit of serendipity and genuine care will remain at the heart of everything we do.

If you’d like to be part of our story, whether for painting, writing, knitting, or just the sheer joy of Tuscany, we would be delighted to welcome you.

You can see our upcoming courses here.

As ever, we’ll be here. Ready to pour the aperitivi at 7pm on the vine verandah, and to raise a glass to whatever comes next.