A life less ordinary

If you imagined life in Herm was quiet, think again. In 25 years of living there, tenants Pennie and Adrian Heyworth have had to deal with all sorts, from escaped convicts to royals. And, as Zoe Ash discovered, Adrian is also special constable, fire chief, sewage worker, electrician and plumber STEPPING off the Herm Trident, a familiar sight greets me. Adrian Heyworth is dashing down to the harbour on his quad bike, spaniels perched on the back.

Even though it's winter, there's a buzz of activity. Herm schoolchildren are heading towards Guernsey, someone is arriving to look over the church prior to restoration work and a group of fishermen is off ormering.

'Head up to the house,' Adrian shouts. 'I'll be up in a minute. Why don't you go through the field? Brett is planting some trees, might make a good photo...'

So here I am. Half-an-hour after negotiating the St Peter Port morning rush hour, I'm in a field with only a couple of pheasants for company.

Then, just as I find gardener Brett Moor, something magical happens.

It starts to snow.

That's Herm for you. Even now I feel as if I'm trapped in a Famous Five plot - and I'm only a visitor.

What must it be like to actually live the story?

I'm here to find out from Adrian and his wife, Pennie, whose parents, Major Peter and Jenny Wood, took over the tenancy in 1949.

'Herm was completely derelict when mum and dad got here but they could see the potential,' Pennie told me, brewing a cup of tea on the Aga. One of six children, she was born at The Manor House, the family home at the top of the hill.

'People were much more pioneering back then. It was just after the end of the Second World War and they wanted to found a community. Herm popped up and it was right for them.'

The island was so overgrown it was three weeks before they discovered hidden in the undergrowth what is now the manor - but was then a two-bedroom cottage. And things got worse before they got better.

A few weeks after they arrived, a sea mine exploded in the harbour, blowing out the windows and taking the roofs of the island's few intact houses.

Undaunted, they set to work restoring Herm to its former glory. Even in later days, when Major Wood took more of a back seat in the running of the island, he was often seen scooting around the paths on a quad bike, stopping to collect the odd discarded ice cream wrapper.

'When I was little, a reporter asked me what my dad did and I said, "he's the man that picks up the litter",' laughed Pennie.

She had met estate agent Adrian at a party in Guernsey - and it was love at first sight.

'Pennie walked into the room and we decided to get married a week later,' he smiled.

In 1980 he had 'a jolly good career' as a partner at Swoffer, Reed and Heyworth (now Swoffers). The couple had a daughter, Hannah, and were expecting their second child when their lives took an unexpected turn. With Pennie four months pregnant with daughter Zoe, they upped sticks and took on an island.

Major Wood was in poor health and had reached retirement age. And Herm's fortunes were in the doldrums. 'We really had no intention of coming here full-time at that stage,' said Adrian, 53. 'But it was increasingly obvious that things weren't right.'

It was a massive undertaking, but they were more than up for it.

'Herm was a challenge and I've always been a very practical, outdoors person,' said Adrian who, 'just rolled up his sleeves and got stuck in'.

Pennie, now 55, may have grown up there, but the inner workings of her island home were a mystery to her.Although I knew what basically held Herm together, I didn't know the nitty-gritty. We were totally thrown in at the deep end,' she said.

'It was a nightmare - we were overawed by the amount of work. Everything was held together with twine: the generator and the boiler, even bits of the Land Rover. I could write the definitive guide to twine, I think,' said Adrian, who trained in land management.

There was a rudimentary power station but no running water and the hotel lacked a sewage system and electricity.

'Physically and mentally, it has been challenging. It still is', said Pennie.

It was important to her that their children, Hannah, Zoe and Abigail, now in their 20s and living in the UK, had a similar upbringing to her own.

'Whatever we were doing, they came with us. They know how to do everything, from unblocking the sewers to planting trees.

'Because of the nature of living here, we did everything together. All our hobbies were done as a family: it never occurred to us to do things separately.'

Herm is their business but also their family home. It sounds idyllic - but the reality is often different.

'It's lovely but tough,' said Adrian, whose average working day is a minimum of 12 hours.

'Herm is not the paradise life people imagine. You could plan a day out and the weather is bad so the boats don't run. And we had a delayed boat journey once because there was a dead body floating around in the Little Russel,' said Pennie, very matter of factly.

But then, the kind of problems the Heyworths have to deal with are largely beyond our comprehension.

Technically, the island is private between sunset and sunrise and they are responsible for everything above the waterline.

The reality is that they are the first people called upon when something goes wrong - night or day. They are effectively on duty 24 hours a day, seven days a week.

'It's the best job in the world, but also the worst because it never goes away,' said Adrian.

In keeping with the Famous Five image, there have been adventures. One night, escaped prisoners from Guernsey stole a boat and landed in the north of the island.

'The chef found them in the end. It was blowing a gale and the lifeboat couldn't get in. They had to send a dinghy to collect the police - and they weren't too keen on having the Alsatian with its sharp claws in there,' laughed Adrian.

When it comes to close shaves, you name it, he and Pennie have been through it. Not that your average day-tripper would know.

'One summer we were one hour away from totally running out of water,' recalled Adrian.

One of the boreholes upon which the island relies for water had unexpectedly dried up. Specialist equipment was shipped over from Guernsey and it was a race against time to drill a new one.

Dramas aside, there have been major changes since Pennie and Adrian moved to Herm.

Twenty-five years ago there was a 20-tent campsite with no facilities. Now there is room for 120, with all mod cons.The White House Hotel has expanded, with no more shared bathrooms at the end of a corridor. Self-catering units have tripled.

The Heyworths bought a cargo ship, The Seahorse, which has been a lifeline for the island. Previously, everything from cows to kegs of beer was brought over on the Trident - even the occasional JCB.

The States, said Adrian, decreed that Herm should be kept for the people of Guernsey as a national playground while at all times maintaining its natural beauty.

So it's lucky that he and Pennie are keen conservationists who work hard to do just that.

They encourage wildlife, have planted 20,000 trees and don't cut the fields back until the birds have nested in July - although things haven't always gone to plan. Seven years ago a plague of browntail moths attacked the island. With 3,000 caterpillars per square metre, they completely stripped it.

The infestation was so severe that Herm was very nearly closed for health reasons.

That problem tackled and the trees planted, the Heyworths turned their attention to the island's gardens, achieving a Britain in Bloom gold award in 2002.

'It's very important that Herm isn't just a tourist island,' is Adrian's view.

And it isn't. There is a total residency of 55, including 30 full-time members of staff and their families. The number swells to 150 in high season.

And the Heyworths take their responsibility towards the residents very seriously.

'On such a small island, community is very important. Part of our responsibility is looking after that community,' said Pennie.

To help foster that, they built an island hall and when a new family moves to Herm, it instantly becomes part of a tight-knit team.

And Adrian, who has been a special constable for 18 years, said that they are committed to maintaining a safe, family environment.

With a community comes schooling and that has been a major issue for Herm families. The school accommodates children up to the age of around 10, after which they must look further afield.

The Heyworths were no exception. Daughters Hannah and Zoe boarded at Guernsey's Blanchelande College, but when it closed in 1991, they had to find an alternative.

'You could say that was one of our crises,' said Adrian.

'And I'll tell you another one - the time we had a fire at the power station. It was the night before Zoe's 21st birthday and all her friends were staying with us.'

On the night itself there was a problem with the sewers. Then the water dried up.

Adrian had to fix everything before putting on his dinner jacket and joining the party.

Sometimes, he said, he is working so hard that he forgets to stop and look around.

'But when I do, I think, "aren't we lucky to be uptight in such a lovely environment?".'

And then he is gone. It's midday and time to make for Rosaire steps for the boat home.

'I'll give you a lift down,' says Pennie, getting her coat.

Then we're belting down the hill, Pennie avoiding the potholes and me clinging on for dear life. I'm shielding my camera from the blizzard with one hand and there's a dog leaning over my shoulder, tongue out.

Yes, the quad's-eye view of Herm is certainly different.

** From Saturday, www.herm-island.com will feature live webcams from the harbour.