‘I’ve resorted to heating my home by woodfire to beat the cost-of-living crisis’

The crisis in costs means more people than ever are seeking cheaper means of heating their houses - but as Katie Glass discovered when she bought a wood burner, it’s not all cosy nights in by the fire

Westley Hargrave

Katie Glass

8 November 2022

Lying in bed hungover in the freezing morning I realise I’ve run out of kindling again and I’ve no newspapers left in the house. My options are either to stay in bed working, or set fire to some loo-roll to get some heat in the house. Either way I’ll have to do it without even a coffee or shower to get me going.

When I first envisaged my hippy dream of running my house solely on wood I hadn’t factored in these bitter mornings, or that it would take me an hour to have a wash. In my original fantasy I was also engaged to a strapping woodsman, but sadly I failed to pull that bit off. Now with reports of a 40 per cent rise in wood-burner sales, I’m not the only one discovering the reality of living semi “off-grid”.

It was summer when I started telling incredulous friends about my ambitious plans to run my whole house on wood. I’d been busily getting stuck into renovating the quaint cottage I’d just bought but was mindful that with this winter coming I needed a solution to the problem that was my ancient boiler (when it wasn’t broken it was so inefficient it barely heated rooms above tepid). I began exploring options.

A quote to fit a new oil boiler came back at around £6,000, made even less attractive by the spiralling cost of oil: when I first moved into the cottage, filling my oil tank cost £400, now it’s closer to £1,000. The oil-fired Aga I’d dreamed about getting became even more fantastical.

Meanwhile, along with the rest of the UK, I’ve watched in a panic as my electricity bills have kept rising. Last winter I managed with electric blankets and plug-in radiators but now they, along with the dream I’d had of getting under-floor heating, are far too expensive. I started thinking outside the box for other ways to fuel the house.

Westley Hargrave

Initially, I explored green possibilities, researching solar and air source heat pumps. In London, demand for solar panels is now so high that it has created supply issues, with installers warning of 10-month delays — but it’s the cost that’s made neither option viable for me. In my old draughty cottage, I was advised that an air source heat pump would cost a fortune to run. When I approached a company about getting solar they quoted me almost £15,000 to install both panels and a battery, essential in England where when you need most power there’s the least sunshine (in winter).

Although I had misgivings about the pollution, which I’ll come back to, in the end running the house on wood was simply the cheapest solution. Quite honestly, it also appealed to me for more than financial reasons. It fitted my romantic notion of country life. It seemed earthy and fun.

There is something about wood that feels “real” and tangible in a way that flicking on an immersion heater does not. While the slowness of running my house on solid fuel struck a chord with the reasons I’d moved out of central London seeking a simpler, way of life in the West Country. “You’ll be sick of it in a few weeks,” my friends said, rolling their eyes. “You’ll never keep it up, especially when you’re outside in winter chopping up kindling”. Undeterred, I bought an axe.

Converting my cottage to wood wasn’t cheap. Stoves cost from £300 to more than £4,000. Still, I hoped that long-term it would pay off. I concentrated on any household’s main fuel expenditures: heating and eating. For the kitchen I bought a La Nordica wood-burning cooker, an Italian model costing £2,000 — far less than a solid fuel Rayburn (circa £3,500).

In the living room, I had a wood-burner with a back boiler installed which cost £2,500. A huge beast, it heats all my hot water and will also fuel a series of radiators, although these haven’t been fitted yet because the man doing it is too busy with other people doing the same thing. Recent figures show more than 35,000 stoves were sold from April to June compared with 25,000 in the same quarter in 2021.

I then set about stockpiling wood like I was waiting for Armageddon. I ordered five tonnes at £60 each. I then bought a chainsaw. My friends looked concerned.

When the guy came to install my wood-burner, he laughed: “I’ll give you a year.” So far, it’s only been six months, but I love it. There are lots of things I like about running my house on wood. It’s romantic to sit by the warmth of the fire, and comforting, especially on cold, dark evenings when I snuggle by the cooker using the heat in every conceivable way: to warm water, make dinner, dry washing.

When the La Nordica is up to full steam its cast iron body belts out so much heat the kitchen turns into a sauna and we sit around in vests.

I like the ritual of ripping up newspaper, collecting kindling, chopping logs down to size, and building a fire until it’s roaring. It gives the kitchen a cosy, authentic country vibe you don’t get from an electric oven. I can also gauge exactly how much fuel I’m using, which with electric and oil felt impossible.

Cooking has literally been a baptism of fire as I’ve wildly underestimated either how hot or cool the oven and stove-top are, suffering multiple burns in the process. I still haven’t attempted to cook things like chicken, as getting the oven to even 150C takes a herculean effort. Still, last weekend I slow cooked a leg of lamb for six hours and my friend claimed it was the best thing she’s ever eaten. Oh, and of course, with an open-fire you can always make Smores on it.

The stove with the back-boiler in the living room takes about 40 minutes to build a fire with enough energy to heat the hot water tank. When it’s done you get enough for a piping hot bath. I know this sounds hippy, but I swear it feels different — or perhaps there’s just something satisfying in feeling you’ve earned the hot water. There’s also the warm glow of knowing how much money you’re saving.

There are downsides too. It’s not quite so quixotic when you come home and it’s freezing, you’ve run out of kindling and have to go outside to chop it in the rain. Or when it takes an hour to get the oven up to temperature just so you can cook a pizza for 10 minutes. I usually cheat in the morning and dig out my electric kettle for a morning coffee or I’d never get going.

Sometimes I can’t face the thought of starting a fire just to have a morning wash. It can feel exhausting thinking you’ll have to wait almost an hour for the tank to heat up. Sometimes, I don’t bother. Luckily in the country no one sees — or smells — you too much.

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If I have to be out the door by 8am, it’d mean getting up at 6am. In fact, truth be told, living on wood would be impossible if I didn’t have a gym close by where I can go in emergencies to wash.

When I started doing viewings for flatmates I warned them repeatedly about the wood situation. I show them the axe and the piles of logs, the ones that don’t go running are as idealistic as I was, and charmed by the idea of living off-grid.

Not all of them stick it. One girl moved in who I had been at pains to point out the downsides to. She seemed untroubled until the first night, when the reality kicked in, and a week later she’d moved out.

It’s hard to know exactly how much money I’m saving, but I haven’t had to use any oil at for six months. Now I only rarely cook on electric (I have kept my electric oven) so overall, I’m using little electricity in my house. Compared with the electricity bills of some people I know, mine isn’t too frightening yet.

If I have one hesitation about the wood-burners it’s the guilt I feel about the impact on the environment. Although the jury still seems to be out on just how much damage they cause. The Stove Industry Alliance suggests newer stoves are 90 per cent less polluting than an open fire, while others claim new burners produce significantly lower levels of emissions compared with open fires and older stoves. Still, government figures show stoves emit more particulate pollution — the deadliest form — than road transport. About 17 per cent of particulate pollution is from burning wood compared with 13 per cent from road transport.

On balance, though, I’m loving my new wood-based life. Just come back and ask me how I’m getting on when it’s real winter and I’ve done another six months.

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Katie Glass

‘I’ve resorted to heating my home by woodfire to beat the cost-of-living crisis’

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