01/11/2024
So, The Nugget is No More…
You wouldn’t believe some of the crazy things that have happened behind the scenes. There are many things I’ve never said publicly—until now. Here we go one last post to lay it all out. The highs, the lows, and everything in between.
When my kids are older, I’ll tell them how, in 2020, a third of the country’s workforce stayed home for months. How we couldn’t visit loved ones, and children couldn’t play outside with friends. They might think I’m exaggerating, but it was during that time of isolation that the idea for The Nugget was born.
I remember taking a government-permitted walk down Horsendale Avenue and witnessing a masked volunteer, distanced and cautious, delivering medication to an elderly resident. Here was a woman, face partially hidden, giving her time and risking her health for a stranger. And I was the only witness.
Our local paper wasn’t covering this, nor was the radio or TV. Even on Facebook, stories like this were rare. Yet, that small act made me feel connected to our community. Inspired, I wrote about it. I also covered a newsagent planning to reopen. I printed 75 copies—enough to exhaust my ink supply—and dropped them through local doors.
I hadn’t planned what would come next. Some readers criticised my grammar, but several reached out with gratitude. One reader, Mary (not her real name), shared that her husband had just passed away and that my little publication made her feel less alone. That feedback moved me deeply. Realising there were probably many more “Marys” out there, I kept going.
The next edition was four pages long, with 1,000 copies. Despite some critics, messages of thanks poured in, and we kept growing. By month three, we were distributing 3,000 copies across Nuthall. My wife, Rachel, offered honest feedback, and my mother-in-law, Julie, helped proofread.
As we expanded into Kimberley, reaching 13,000 people, the overwhelming response was both encouraging and intimidating. We found our formula by focusing on what people loved and learning from early mistakes. A neighbour, Grenville Green, once told me, “You’ll always have critics, but focus on the people who find joy in what you do.” He was right.
However, with growth came financial strain. Up to that point, I had mostly paid out of pocket, and sustaining the magazine required funding. Advertising seemed like the only way, but our competitors had a broader reach. Expanding further became essential.
I recruited local ambassadors who knew their communities well. Sam, Louise, Alison, Emma, Diane, Richard, Pete, and Rosie all joined. Our team grew stronger together, and with their support, I learned Adobe InDesign and partnered with a newspaper printer. Our first 16-page issue—20,000 copies—was delivered in two weeks. It was exhausting but exhilarating.
For a while, we managed to break even. But rising costs soon created new hurdles. Printing and distribution expenses jumped from £4,000 to £7,500 almost overnight. As a Community Interest Company (CIC), The Nugget didn’t qualify for major charitable benefits or returns for investors. We faced a difficult choice: either run it like an ad-driven business, contradicting our mission of strengthening communities, or reform as a charity and rely on grants and donations.
Pursuing charity status was tough. It’s difficult to justify a community magazine alongside giants like Cancer Research or Save the Children. The funding landscape was challenging: only 1% of UK charities receive 66% of the funding, and we couldn’t compete at that scale. We approached local councils, but their budgets were limited. Without consistent funding, we had to stop printing, and momentum waned.
Letting go of The Nugget was one of my hardest decisions. It had become a part of me. Yet, I’m proud of what we achieved. Our magazine had a unique spirit, free from ad clutter, dedicated entirely to local stories. If you still have a copy, compare it to any local paper and see the difference.
We covered countless stories of kindness and resilience. We inspired people to do good and strengthened our community in ways I never imagined. Reflecting on those highlights brings me joy: the monthly ambassador meetings, the locals hesitant to share their stories until they realised their impact, the stories from lifelong residents, and even the humbling lessons learned from our mistakes.
To my wife, Rachel: your support made everything possible. Not just your contributions, but knowing you would be there for me if it did somehow fail allowed me to throw myself into the project 100%.
And to everyone who contributed or read The Nugget, thank you.
I’ve learned to never say never because you truly never know what the future holds. I never imagined that the Nugget would reach the incredible heights it did. So, while I won’t rule out a comeback one day, for now, this chapter is closing.
It was a privilege to serve our community.
In closing, I'm attaching a selection of some of the most popular pictures we've shared on this page. Especially some of the older ones! Enjoy.
All the best,
Ben Cropley
Founder and former Chief Editor
[email protected]
