Chief muckety-muck Alison opens the door in a wood apron. She wears her heart on her sleeve, literally. Her hands cup the world’s tiniest wood-turned urn, ornately made from super slow-growing boxwood. Around her, adults saw, sew, stitch, drill, carve, weave, hem, wire, plane, plumb, sand, and when they get it right, whistle.
Going wrong is critical too – students must make mistakes to learn. “My solicitor once fired me for being too reckless. Yet reckless is right on the cusp of inventive.”
Welcome to the Good Life (Goodlife Centre). A ferociously independent place to learn through hands, head, heart & humour.
“It was a shell when we moved in. No architect. I drew something and Ruth built it – she can do anything with wood and cut her teeth as a carpenter for the local authority when all their tradespeople were women. She teaches furniture-making, plays piano, rides a motorbike. Ana started out making tea. Now she teaches furniture restoration and runs the place, along with Emily, her assistant.”
Everyone here has a back story. Alison has a tool-shed full. Expelled in her teens. 7yrs at art school, culminating at the RCA where she attended while also running a model-making business. Fled to the States to be a designer at Tiffany on 5th Ave and taught carpentry to women. Asprey’s lured her back to London to reboot their brand before she picked up a pen and a chisel and wrote The Girl’s Guide to DIY. She started artist enclaves in Wapping, Shoreditch & Mt Pleasant before the hipsters moved in. She has a thing for patents, carrion crows, abandoned brollies and lice, yes lice.
“There was a gap that nearly closed to making. Westminster Council rang up and said please take over our upholstery course. Knitting & crocheting are back, thanks to TikTok. But I want people to learn properly. This is old school art school. One guy said, bloody tea keeps going cold. They all get lost in the act of making.”
There is something deeply present about the place. Total absorption in the moment. Focus on the skill in hand. No mobiles. No music. No distraction. It’s about being in the zone. With the tools and the tutor.
“Many craftspeople are dyslexic – yet they make great teachers. I run this place for them. Ruth told the guy who ran the Building Craft College about us. When he retired, he came here. I’ve just held a 12th night party for the staff. No workshops. 32 of us all together, in through this hidden half-door. Like the secret garden in a giant shed.”
We take a tour and wonder where the rain goes. The magic is the building floats. The stud walls are wedged to the old frame. It typifies the wit and warmth of the Goodlife Centre. Even the tools have life stories. Meet the Glenford (£1 steal on eBay, but a collector’s dream). This 20inch turnscrew (forerunner to the screwdriver) has a flat-faced handle, so it can’t roll away.
Every hand tool you use, you can buy. Boy, they’re sharp. And stay sharp, when you’re taught how to look after them. Tricks of every trade. Cut your hand, use a wood shaving to stop the blood. Life lessons, straight out of the woodwork – pun intended.
It’s also a history lesson. John Rawlings was a builder at the British Museum. He invented rawl plugs using rope. Smart fella took out the patent. This is part of Alison’s personal collection. They’re not precious. They’re stock items. The stud walls are used to practice hollow walls. There’s no waste. Everything is used. She lives by George’s Bernard Shaw’s motto: I want to be thoroughly used up. “I’m done when this building is done. This is my retirement job.”
Her dad retired in Portugal, after running a pub and teaching his daughter DIY. He threw himself into the language, the culture, the fabric of a rural community. He became the village handyman, and when he died, they carved his name on the old boys’ bench.
Bankside has become Alison’s village. She runs a pub with no beer. She values locals with long stories. She welcomes all walks of life. She’s taught a few thousand locals to make and do things they thought they couldn’t. She loves her neighbours (half of KLF, Jimmy Cauty & a third of Thomson Twins, Alanna Currie – now a subversive upholsterer). Her landlady has a key she never uses. It’s a can-do commune.
If you fancy a slice of the good life, be it a one day delve into basket making, to a 24week woodwork course, pop in and chat to Ana, Alison or anyone who answers the door.
Special thanks to
Images by @speediemeadie66
Words by Pete Kirby
