Never JUST a Swing

You are probably reading this because you are thinking about a swing, either for your own garden or for somebody you love. You may not yet have thought through what a swing actually does once it is hanging from the tree. Most people don't. We have had quite a long time to do so. Hear me out...

My first life-defining moment happened when I was ten years old, on a bench in my grandfather's garden on the west coast of Norway. He made and mended fishing nets for a living, so it was entirely normal for him to have a piece of rope in his pocket and, while we were waiting for something, to simply start splicing it into a loop. I paid attention. He was a good teacher. It is frightening to think how much of my life I can trace back to that single afternoon.

Twenty-five years later, that same skill got me out of a tight spot when I needed a birthday present for a friend, and in the process I made the first Oak & Rope swing. The friend was delighted. So were the people who saw it. That is, very quietly, how this whole company began.

One day, when we were still quite young as a company, the phone rang. Could we make 160 swings in 13 weeks, for the wrap party of a film called Gravity? We said yes without a moment's hesitation. A few years later, a young Prince was photographed on one of our swings on his third birthday. The picture went around the world and we became, somewhat accidentally, the world's most famous swing makers. Our designs have since been flown from London to Aspen in a private jet, and we have been sworn to secrecy about holiday destinations and the names of unborn children. The swing keeps opening doors we did not know existed.

In 2013, an American photographer posted a picture of a swing hanging over the water at Trandal, in a remote Norwegian fjord. It went viral. That swing has its own pin on Google Maps and, on a summer's day, somewhere between 150 and 200 visitors. People propose marriage on it. A man in Germany has it tattooed on his arm. Wedding photographers travel to it. None of the people looking after it had any idea that a piece of rope, a plank of wood and a good tree would change their lives. We knew the feeling. The swing hanging there today is one of ours, a Medium Swing made in our workshop.

In a world where we tend to wrap our children up in cotton wool, the swing is one of the very few places they get to take calculated risks. They learn to push themselves, quite literally, and pick up balance, coordination and a proper workout along the way. A swing also has a way of putting everybody at ease: the toddler in distress, the teenager who isn't speaking to anyone, the stressed spouse, the slightly anxious dog. Sit them on a swing for ten minutes and something softens. Great conversations happen there, and from great conversations, other paths get quietly carved.

A swing engraved with the couple's names and the date of the wedding has, almost by accident, become one of the most loved things we make. Most venues have somewhere to hang one. Photographers love them because they create a quiet moment for the couple and some of the loveliest, least-posed pictures of the day. After the wedding, the swing comes home. When the first child arrives, a smaller version often joins it, carved with their name and hung from the same tree. By the time those children are old enough to push their own children, the rope will have stretched and the oak will have weathered to silver. Heirlooms don't usually announce themselves. The swing is one of the few that does.

There is a perfectly good physics explanation for why a swing keeps swinging: potential energy into kinetic, kinetic back into potential, and round again. I am far better at carpentry than physics, so I am simply happy to observe that it works.

The emotional mechanics are harder to explain. We often hear from people about what their swing has come to mean to them. The widower who sits on his at the same time every evening. The child who will only nap in the garden swing. The swing that has survived three house moves because nobody could bear to leave it behind. We don't try to explain any of that. We prefer to put it down to pure magic.

If you don't have the right tree, or any tree at all, our Swing Frame solves the problem. We developed it with landscape architects so it sits properly in a garden rather than imposing itself on one. The posts are set firmly into the ground, the turf grows back around them, and before long it looks as if it has always been there. It takes our medium, large and couples swings.

Our swings come in a range of sizes, from baby swings for the tiniest passengers to couples swings wide enough for two grown-ups, and swing benches big enough for the whole family. Our oak swings are made by hand in our Kent workshop, and every one is engraved to your design. Each one is built on the assumption that your grandchildren will be using it.

Some might say it's a reach, but it's never just a swing.

Everything you have just read is the short version. The long version sits in a little book called The World's Most Famous Swing Makers, and if you would like a copy, just ask. You can also read how we became the world's most famous garden swing makers on our blog, and how to look after an oak garden swing.

The other stories in this series: Never JUST a Chopping Board, Never Just a Jar and Never Just a Wine Cooler.