It’s been just over two weeks since I shared the idea of trying to reopen The Warren differently. Not simply reopening the restaurant as it was, but spending the next few months testing whether we could build something more resilient around it. Something involving more people, sharing more of the responsibility, and eventually turning The Warren into a community-owned business that doesn’t depend entirely on one person to keep it alive.
So I thought it was probably time to tell you how it’s actually going. The short answer is, a lot has happened. Probably the most important thing so far is that people have actually turned up. We’ve started our Thursday volunteer mornings and already 12 people have got involved, giving more than 35 hours of their time between them. We’ve cleaned, sorted, fixed things, moved things, talked, planned, eaten lunch together and gradually started bringing a building that had been mostly asleep for nearly a year back to life.
But the thing I’ve enjoyed most hasn’t really been how much work we’ve got done. It’s been having people back in the building. There’s conversation again. There are ideas being thrown around. People are noticing things I don’t notice and bringing skills that I don’t have. That, really, is the whole point of this experiment. For years I carried an enormous amount of The Warren in my own head and on my own shoulders. This time I want to find out what happens when we open it up and allow other people to help shape it.
Bit by bit, the restaurant is starting to feel like The Warren again. There have been all the boring but essential jobs that come with waking up a restaurant: electrics, gas, fire safety, cleaning, equipment, windows, extraction, insurance and a seemingly endless list of little things that need checking. We’ve also had some incredibly generous local businesses and individuals helping us along the way. Every time somebody offers a few hours, gives us some advice, helps fix something or reduces a bill, it makes this experiment a little more possible. And the room itself is starting to feel alive again. I’ll be honest, that has been quite emotional for me.
We’ve also been looking for two people to work alongside me on Sundays, one in the kitchen and one front of house, and the response has been brilliant. I’ve been reading applications and starting conversations with people about what working at The Warren this time around might actually mean. I don’t just want to fill two shifts. I want to find people who understand what we’re trying to test here and who want to help create the atmosphere around those Sunday tables.
Then there’s the 10th birthday. On Saturday 12 September, The Warren turns ten. When I first started talking about having a party, I wasn’t entirely sure whether anyone would come. At the time of writing this, more than half the tickets have already gone. That means a lot. Ten years ago people in this town helped crowdfund The Warren into existence, and now, a decade later, we’re getting everyone back into the same room while we work out whether the community can help give it its next chapter too. There’ll be food, music, drinks, old faces, new faces and hopefully a fairly full building. I think it might be a special night.
And then we cook. From Sunday 20 September, I’ll be back in The Warren kitchen every Sunday. A handful of guests (to begin with), one sitting, one menu, everyone arriving around midday and eating together. I want these lunches to be a concentrated version of everything I have always loved about The Warren: brilliant local produce, relationships with growers and farmers, thoughtful cooking, good drinks, conversation and people sharing a room together. I’m already speaking to some of the producers I’ve worked with over the years and starting to think about what September will taste like. And I am genuinely very excited to cook for people again.
But I think it’s important to keep saying that this is still an experiment. We haven’t saved The Warren. We haven’t formed the new community business yet. We don’t know whether Sunday lunches will sell out every week, whether enough people will volunteer, whether we can raise the money we need, or exactly what the eventual structure will look like. There are still lots of questions, and that’s why I’m trying not to rush this.
The next few months are about gathering evidence. Will people eat here? Will people volunteer here? Will local businesses support it? Will people put their names forward to help run it? And ultimately, does Carmarthen want The Warren enough to help protect it for the future? So far, the answer I’m hearing is encouraging.
Perhaps the biggest change is actually in me. The old version of The Warren often relied on me trying to hold everything together. This time I’m deliberately trying not to do that. I’m learning to ask for help, I’m trying to listen more, and I’m trying to create space for other people to have ideas, take responsibility and occasionally tell me that there might be a better way of doing something. That might sound small, but for me it’s probably the biggest experiment of all. Watching people walk through the door on a Thursday morning because they have simply decided that this place is worth giving a few hours of their life to has been quite extraordinary.
So thank you. To everyone who has volunteered, applied for a role, bought a birthday ticket, booked a Sunday lunch, offered a skill, sent an encouraging message, introduced me to somebody, offered sponsorship or simply told someone else what we’re trying to do, thank you.
We’re only a couple of weeks in. There’s a long way to go. But The Warren has people inside it again. And that feels like a pretty good place to start.
Deri