A fire burns cheerfully in a grove of trees behind the thatched cottage where Richard Jefferies once lived.

Dapples of sunlight fall on several small, waist-high wooden tables (called bankers). On each one rests a square chunk of Maltese limestone. By four o’clock tomorrow, these undifferentiated blocks will be either a carving of a green man, or a relief of three hares running in a circle. Looking at the block, and the unfamiliar tools, and as a complete beginner in the endeavour of stone carving, that possibility seems remote.

The three hares motif, their ears joined in the middle, and the leafy green man face are both ancient architectural ornaments dating back to medieval times, thought to have mystical associations with fertility.

The green man is found in many churches in Wiltshire, a symbol of fruitfulness and the regeneration of the natural world.

My brother Vince and I are embarking on a weekend stone carving course, run by Wolfy Wilkins and Maya Martin. These two are experts – qualified professionals with an impressive catalogue of beautiful creations. Wolfy left a career as visual merchandiser for B&Q to retrain in stone masonry and carving, worked for the National Trust and created a wolf in a boot grotesque for St George’s Chapel.

Maya worked as a dietician for the NHS before starting a career in stone work, beginning with an apprenticeship through the National Association of Decorative and Fine Arts and then working with sculptor Robyn Golden-Hann, who makes bespoke memorial masonry. Together they have run five weekend courses in Swindon.

After a quick introduction, we get to work. The first job is to trace a stencil of our chosen design on the block. I’m attempting the green man design, so once the face is pencilled on, I take up a chisel and mallet and Wolfy explains how they are used.

It looks so easy and natural when he does it, but in the first couple of hours I find it anything but. I am very slow. I’m gripping the chisel too tight, and it doesn’t go where I want it to.

After a couple of hours my hands are aching, I've made little progress, and have that horrible insecure feeling of being useless and wanting to give up and run away.

Fortunately, that feeling doesn’t last long. The process is so absorbing. Quickly it’s lunchtime, and we sit outside for soup and bread and lashings of strong coffee, then more tap, tap, tapping under the trees, with the smell of woodsmoke in our nostrils and the miniature train from Coate Water zipping past from time to time.

The afternoon is over in an instant, and I’ve hack out the edges, the eyes and chin. We are covered in dust and a bit tired and aching, but as confidence grows, what a joy it has been. In fact, it’s hard to stop – you just want to keep on working at the stone.

The following morning, we’re back among the trees. Maya and Wolfy patiently take is through the next stages of our work. I can’t imagine how I am going to carve the eyes and lips, how to work in three dimensions, but incredibly it works out. The chisel seems more comfortable in my hand, and slowly I am gaining in competence. Bit by bit, the character I am created emerges from the stone.

In the afternoon I begin to shape the leaves. Visitors to the museum pop by and take a look at what we are doing.

The miniature train trundles past, and Swindon poet Tony Hillier stops by to recite a poem he has made up on the spot about our carvings: it is a completely enchanting experience.

Although the green man isn’t finished, by four o’clock it has reached a satisfactory finishing point. We all have pieces of work we feel genuinely proud of and retire to the pub for a celebratory drink. What an absolute joy it has been: I would recommend it to anyone. For more information on future courses and drop-ins, contact Maya at mayacza@hotmail.com.