So, who is going to speak first? Who will say the unsayable? We can see it in
each other’s eyes. Okay, I’ll do it: we’re ditching the Aga. The real wonder
is that it took us so long to make the decision. My wife, Janie, and I are
not hair-shirt green, but we like to do our bit. Five years ago, we
installed solar panels. We’ve hunted down the eco light bulbs that don’t
give that dreadful jaundiced glow. We collect rainwater. We carefully
separate our plastics and metals and make endless trips to the rag, paper
and bottle banks.
Yet all the time, this cast-iron Falstaff has been sitting in the corner of
the kitchen, guzzling upwards of five litres of oil a day. Somehow, we’ve
been in denial. And it’s a shock to step into the light.
We moved to our Sussex farmhouse from south London 10 years ago. No sooner had
we completed than my wife was off down the high street towards the range and
cooker shop. It had to be an Aga. It had to be cream enamel. And it
had to be now.
It’s an unnerving business, giving up life in the city: no taxis, no Pret A
Manger, and new thoughts on the right to roam. Put in an Aga, and in one
easy step you settle doubts and become an instant paid-up member of the
rural club. Membership is designated not by a tie and badge, but by special
roasting tins, a wire snowshoe whatsit for toasting bread and a
fantastically heavy kettle. The rural idyll stretches out ahead: kettle,
labrador and woolly mittens gently steaming together on an autumn afternoon,
the clang of the Aga door and perfect roast potatoes.
“It’s what you do when you move to the country,” as our new neighbour put it.
“You won’t be able to manage without one.”
And so we’d found Aga joy. This was the good life we had dreamt of. We built
up a livestock farm here, rearing beef, lamb and pork. After a 4am calving,
we slumped against Aga’s warm bulk. We even – pure Aga mythology, this –
revived a hypothermic lamb one year by putting it in the warming oven.
It wasn’t all roses. The Aga showed character by packing up on feast days. In
its first year, it needed to see its engineer every three months for
decoking or relighting or just a wonky wick. I nearly fell off the roof
putting a little tin hat on the chimney. Excessive carbon build-up. The
burning oil with which we’d been supplied, suggested our man, was not quite
refined enough. So we upgraded the fuel – another 6p a litre, thank you –
but at least we could dry our mittens again.
The oil level kept going down, even though we rarely have the central heating
on. It’s the country way. Still the tanker came and went with alarming
frequency. I’m ashamed to say it now, but I never thought to check the oil
consumption. Nobody does – I’ve asked around. When I finally checked, I
found to my horror that our two-oven uses at least 40 litres of kerosene a
week, 2,080 litres a year. At 55p a litre (compared with 23p 12 months ago),
that’s well over £1,000 a year – just to leave the cooker on 24/7. Okay,
we’re saving money on a toaster, but some days we only boil a saucepan.
So, is Aga nervous? Might the increasingly green – and money-conscious –
middle classes turn their back on the range in the same way they have on
bottled mineral water and the 4WD? There does appear to be cause for
concern: sales worldwide stalled last year – down 2% to 19,600 units. The
company blames this on distribution problems in Holland and the chill
economic wind blowing across North America. No, Richard Eagleton, the group
marketing director, insists: sales of its cast-iron cookers – also including
the less thirsty Rayburn and Stanley – were definitely up in the UK. So were
inquiries. But what about Agas? Eagleton says the company doesn’t break down
the figures. Hmm.
Crisis or no crisis, the group is launching a new £3.5m campaign, “Love Aga”,
featuring Kevin McCloud of Grand Designs fame. The message is about
belonging. “It is about getting people to remember how much they love their
Aga,” says Eagleton. “People form an emotional attachment to them.”
Indeed, the company’s website includes a somewhat saccharine section where
owners are encouraged to write their “I love my Aga because . . .” stories.
“We can smell the warmth of it coming down from the hall and, once we reach
the kitchen, it’s like our best friend, standing there waiting to serve us,”
writes one. “After I have the life-saving cup of tea, I would normally make
fresh brown bread . . .” And so it goes on.
Mary Berry is the doyenne of the Aga set and author of several cookery books.
She used to run courses teaching the finer points of Aga cookery, and never
heard any complaints about fuel consumption. “I like to be green on other
things and do what I can, but I’m not so concerned about the Aga,” she says.
“On a cold day, it draws the family together. Children who might be
elsewhere are drawn to its warmth and to mum. It’s the heart.”
That’s all very well, but what would the people at Aga say to persuade us to
hold onto our range? “I’d say, don’t get rid of a member of the family,”
says Eagleton. The company recently unveiled a biofuel-enabled range that,
with a small tweak of the burner, would run on biofuel derived from manure
or other such renewable sources once they are commercially available. In the
meantime, it can be powered by oil or diesel. About 55% of Aga sales are now
of the electric model, and the company says it will work with customers
wanting to generate their own wind, solar, water or even earth power.
The bottom line, though, is that an Aga is still half a tonne of cast iron,
designed to heat up slowly and be kept hot. It isn’t on-off technology.
Whichever fuel you use – and however green it is – the Aga is still going to
use more of it.
Back on the farm, the hunt for a replacement was not easy. There isn’t much of
a secondhand market, either, at least not around here. One dealer we
approached said he had 32 he couldn’t shift. The best offer we’ve had so far
is £200.
We spent hours searching for our replacement – and here, Rayburn (which is
owned by Aga) shone. The oil-fired Rayburn has a timing panel inside the
machine. It heats from cold to hot in 30 minutes (against what seems like 30
hours for the Aga) and can be timed to come on and go off like a boiler.
Yet we have several acres of woodland here and also the time to coppice it and
room to store seasoning logs. We should be using wood – not oil. It would be
cheaper and much better for our carbon footprint. Even better if we went for
a range that provided cooking and central heating, as we would pay only 5%
Vat because the government wants to encourage carbon-neutral heating
products.
Janie was keen to go down the wood route – and who can blame her, as I’m the
one who will be doing all the carting and splitting? The idea of being
totally dependent on a full woodshed and log basket was less attractive.
I was moaning in this vein to the man who services our boiler and he told us
about the H2 panel – and that clinched it. This clever little box, which
costs about £500, monitors the temperature of hot water from whatever source
– wood-fired range, solar panels, oil-fired boiler – and switches to the
most ecological way to heat the house and bath water. The best of both
worlds, or so it seems. We can still have a hot bath even if I can’t be
bothered to bring in a pile of wood.
So, armed with that, we chose a two-oven Esse W25 wood-fired range with a
built-in boiler, at £4,155. It pushed all the buttons: it takes the biggest
logs (less carting for me), has a matching electric oven for summer and
feasts, and, most important, it met Janie’s exacting standards for
appearance – it looks uncannily like the Aga and comes in cream.
Hearth and soul
How much does an Aga cost?The cheapest is a two-oven, oil-fired model
in a standard colour – Cream, Claret, Dark Blue, Racing Green, Pewter
or Black – for £6,575. Opt for a different size, fuel, or colour, and
add a boiler, and the price could rise to £15,000.
How much fuel does it use? According to Aga, a four-oven model uses 51
litres of oil or 273kwh of electricity a week – about 25 times more
than a typical electric oven.
How can you make it greener? Aga is developing a biofuel-enabled model
that could work on cow manure. In the meantime, you can buy an electric oven
and fuel it by wind or solar power or a ground-source heat pump.
Who’s got an Aga? David Cameron has one in his constituency home,
but claims to leave it off most of the time. Other fans include chefs Jamie
Oliver and Rick Stein, and film star Sharon Stone.
What are the alternatives? Wood-burning ranges are greener and cheaper,
especially if you have your own wood. Or try an electric alternative from
Everhot (www.everhot.co.uk), whose
90cm two-oven model uses only 88kwh per week and costs £4,675. If you have
an oil burner, you can buy a pressure jet from Snughome Cookers (www.snughomecookers.co.uk)
for £1,500 that could cut up to 50% off your bills or allow you to run your
Aga using biofuel.
