A Step Too Far?

We each have our own line in the sand, green lifestyle changes we're not yet willing to make. Some people just aren't willing to give up their private jet, their mansion and their champagne. Others live in straw bale houses as part of a self-sufficient collective, and feel wracked with guilt because they just can't give up their South American coffee in exchange for home-grown roasted-dandelion-and-chicory-root-coffee-substitute (and who can blame them?)

Earlier in the week Beth left a comment on the Tetrapaks and the Environment post saying that she carries water everywhere in a canteen to avoid buying bottled water and drinks when she's out and about. It's a great idea, but my first reaction was "Oh, I couldn't be bothered doing that".

Why is that a step too far for me? It requires a degree of organisation, for a start. I'm still struggling to take reusable shopping bags with me when I go out, and sometimes forget. But I know from experience that it will become second nature eventually, I'm already much better at remembering than a month ago. Another reason against carrying water is that it's heavy! My handbag already weighs a ton (mostly because of all the rubbish in it). I don't fancy carrying a heavy canteen of water everywhere as well. But I think the main reason is that I really don't buy bottled drinks often at all. It's just once in a blue moon I realise I'm terribly thirsty when I'm out, and I'll buy a drink, maybe three or four times a year. Carrying a heavy canteen of water with me 365 days a year seems like quite a burden compared to the benefit.

But maybe I should drink more water. We're all told it's good for our health. If I carried water with me, perhaps I'd remember to drink more (if only to lighten the damn thing). I could also offer drinks to the kids. Maybe I rarely buy drinks for myself, but I buy them for the kids more often. Perhaps carrying water would result in a significant reduction in waste for our family overall.

What would make me start carrying water for sure? I suppose if someone bought me a nice canteen for Christmas (I'm not dropping hints by the way, just musing) I would make an effort to carry it for a while. If I found it worthwhile I would continue carrying it. I would also be motivated if someone in the family was diagnosed with a condition that made dehydration dangerous for them. And I'd be motivated if all the bottled drinks suddenly vanished from the shops, if they were banned for example, or if they became ten times more expensive.

So will I start carrying water everywhere with me? I don't know. What was more interesting to me was the process of analysing the first moment in which I was invited to take a step for the environment that felt like a step too far.

What is a step too far for you? Is there anything you've been asked to do for the planet that you just weren't willing to do? Is there anything you feel you should really do for the environment, and feel guilty that you don't? What would it take to make you change your mind?

Cartoon from Climate Cartoons. Click on the panel to make it bigger.

Autumn Equinox

Today is the autumn equinox (in the Northern hemisphere), the point of balance between midsummer and midwinter. Day and night are 12 hours long today, that's what "equinox" means (in fact it's more complicated than that because the sun is not a single point and the earth's orbit is not a perfect circle). But from now on the days in the Northern hemisphere get shorter and shorter, and the nights get longer. The growing season is rapidly coming to a close and winter is approaching.

I feel a sense of descent and closing. I feel connected to the seasons, although that hasn't always been true. At other times of my life I have felt very disconnected from them, for example when I was living in a city, and drove to work every day. House to car, car to work, work to car, car to house. Indoor shopping centres at the weekend. Pubs or cinemas in the evening. I didn't notice when the first blackberries ripened or when the swallows returned in spring. But last Friday morning a skein of geese flew overhead as I dropped the kids off at school. I first heard their loud calling, and I stopped to watch them as they passed.

Everything I Know About Environmentalism, I Learned From Star Wars

1. It's all about balance. Anakin was prophesied to be the "one who would bring balance to the force", but the Jedi didn't realise he would do this by weakening the light side and strengthening the dark side. In the environment balance is also desirable, and problems occur when humanity disrupts the natural equilibrium.
2. Man-made objects aren't inherently good or bad, it depends on what they're used for. General Grievous and his droid army were bad news, but R2D2 and C3PO are goodies. Similarly cars, air conditioners and airplanes aren't the enemy, as long as we can use them wisely.
3. C3P0 said "It's against my programming to impersonate a deity." If only humans were so wise!
4. The ewoks with their neat tree-houses (I really wanted to live in one of those!) and slingshots managed to overcome the Federation stormtroopers. Likewise, I believe that a well-coordinated bunch of treehuggers can achieve their aims despite opposition from governments and corporations.
5. Everything is connected. The Force is an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us. It binds the galaxy together. Well, in the Star Wars universe it does, anyway. In our universe all life is connected too. The Victorian ideas of a hierarchy in nature - top predators, food chain, the ascent of man - they're not true. Tigers aren't the top of the food chain because fleas drink their blood. Does that makes fleas a top predator? In fact everything depends on everything else, so we need to save the plankton just as much as we need to save the whales, and we need to save the fleas as much as the tigers. Or to put it another way, there's always a bigger fish.
6. Shmi Skywalker (Ani's mum) said "You can't stop the change any more than you can stop the suns from setting." Another word for environmentalism is conservation. But we shouldn't aim to preserve everything exactly the same as it is today. That would be unnatural.
7. Size doesn't matter. Yoda was small but he kicked butt. Never think you're too small to make a difference.
8. Don't underestimate the power of the dark side. Big corporations are stealing green clothing. Petrol companies are changing their logos to green leaves and flowers, chemical companies are planting trees and supermarkets are putting solar panels on their roofs. But are they really changing their ways, or are they just adopting highly-visible tokens of eco-friendliness. Are they still raping the planet behind the scenes? Find the facts. Don't be fooled by the marketing.
9. It's never too late to change your ways, and sometimes your children will show you the way. Darth Vader became Anakin again because of Luke's courage. And even hopeless petrol-heads can see the light.
10. The rebels can defeat the Federation. A small band of committed people can bring about change for the better. All it takes is dedication, organisation, loyalty, faith, courage, and a heap of junk that can make the Kessel run in less than twelve parsecs.

Salute to Heath Robinson

What do you do if your computer stops working? Do you a) try to fix it yourself, or b) call the helpdesk immediately? What would you do if the handle broke on your dishwasher? Would you a) fix it with gaffer tape or b) buy a new one? How about if you needed to strain 5 gallons of damson wine? Would you a) go to the homebrew shop in the morning and buy a ready made wine straining apparatus, or b) rig something up with a plastic sieve, a kitchen chair and a few cast iron pans utilised as counterweights? If you answered a, a, b you have what it takes to be self sufficient.

The term "self sufficiency" has all sorts of nuances that go beyond "people who grow all their own food". One meaning of "self sufficiency" is "capable, practical, skilled at day-to-day problem solving". My grandfathers both had it in spades, and both my parents had it to some extent, especially my mum. She would have a go at anything. She was especially skilled at working with textiles and ceramics, but she'd try her hand at bricklaying (and also demolition), plastering, woodwork, sculpture, plumbing, carpet laying, you name it. It's a quality that's increasingly rare. People would prefer to call a tradesman to do their painting and decorating. Mum wouldn't have dreamed of it and neither would I.

On the other hand she was a fan of things like the Betterware catalogues. I hate those. A special gizmo for cleaning down the back of the fridge? A doohicky that cracks eggs? Something to store your dishcloth on when it's not in use? I can solve those problems myself without paying someone £10 for a bit of plastic to do it for me. Because I'm self sufficient.

I Believe...

I believe that green shopping is a red herring.

We can't shop our way out of ecological catastrophe (or spiritual emptiness).

The green revolution is not just for the middle class who can afford to pay extra for trendy fair-trade organic recycled chic. The middle class habit of buying far too much stuff is the problem, it can't be the solution.

The solution is to buy less stuff. Just buy less. It's not expensive. It's not hard. It's not rocket science.

Stuff. You don't need it.

Ye Olde Country Weather Lore

If a slug is crawling up your milk bottle in the morning, then it's raining, and if ants are crawling all over your orange juice bottle, then the weather is dry.

I Believe...

I believe that the choices of millions of ordinary people are what shapes the world, not the actions of big organisations like governments or companies.

Companies only do what their customers demand, and governments do what their voters demand. Even despots have to keep in mind what their citizens demand - ask the Ceauşescus.

In the end it is the day-to-day choices of ordinary individuals that shape the world. So it is very important to make the right choices.

Do you agree, or do you think the wealthy and powerful make all the running, and it makes little difference what you do?

Empty Boat

There's an old Taoist parable I like a lot, about an empty boat.

If you are rowing your boat down the river, and another boatman crashes his boat into yours, you will shout and curse at him and tell him what a fool he is, and all day you will feel angry about the stupid boatman, and you will go home and tell your wife about the idiot boatman who crashed into you.

But if an empty boat crashes into yours, you will push it away with your oar and carry on your journey. You won't think about it any more.

So when something happens to frustrate you, tell yourself "It doesn't matter. It's just an empty boat", and don't think about it any more.

I like that a lot.

Review: Living The Good Life

I really enjoyed "Living the Good Life" by Linda Cockburn. It's the story of an Australian family who spend six months without spending any money, but still living a fairly normal life. They had already converted their half-acre garden to a fruit and vegetable plot (with chickens and a goat called "Possum") to provide all their food, and installed solar hot water, photovoltaics and water catchment to provide electricity and water.

It's also peppered with facts and figures about the harm our modern lifestyles are doing to the planet and to ourselves, including the table I reproduced a couple of weeks ago in "Consumerism v Humanitarianism". These help explain why the family felt motivated to do such a thing, and perhaps should motivate readers to make some changes in their own lifestyles. But if you really don't like that sort of thing you can easily skip those parts because they appear in coloured boxes, so you can just go to the next bit of narrative about the family.

One factor that made it an easy read was that I really liked her. I'd like to meet her and just hang out, because she seemed funny and relaxed, whilst also passionate and serious about things that I agree are important. She kept that balance which (dare I say it) some eco-warriors tend to lose. So there is plenty of humour in the book. For example when their six-year-old son loses patience with the project and declares:

I don't care what's for dinner as long as it comes with a free toy!

Maybe I'm weird (well I know I'm weird) but when I read about how they went six months without buying new clothes (even though they all lost weight and their clothes were dropping off them), or new shoes (and had to mend their own flip-flops), or books (gasp!) or anything else, I really envied them and wished I could do it myself. So many aspects of their lifestyle seemed idyllic, that even their hardships didn't seem as bad as struggling to do the weekly shop in the rain, queueing up for hours at the checkout and then sitting stuck in the traffic on the way home, or the other "hardships" of normal modern life.

The end of the book describes their first couple of weeks "post-project". They had looked forward to having a huge blow-out, eating all the fast food they could get, and buying all the posessions money can provide. But they quickly found it wasn't nearly as enjoyable as they had anticipated. The dad had spent the whole six months cycling home from work past a KFC and trying to resist the alluring smell of hot chips. but when the project was over and he could have gone in and bought them if he wanted, he found he didn't really want to any more.

I recommend you read this book. For one reason, it might open your eyes and motivate you to make some changes in your lifestyle that would benefit you and the whole planet. It certianly did that for me. But that's not the main reason you should read it. The main reason is that it's a good read. I think you'll enjoy it.

Margarine Musings

When I was growing up, my family used margarine, never butter. When as an adult I bought my first block of butter I treated it as if it were margarine. I stored it in the fridge until I needed it. Then I stuck a table knife in it and tried to scoop out a lump. No joy. I levered and waggled and eventually managed to excavate a lump of cold hard butter, which I dropped onto a slice of bread. Then I tried to spread it. As I contemplated my ruined slice of bread (now just a crust with a big hole in the middle) I thought "It's rubbish, butter. No wonder my parents always used the superior, easy-to use modern margarine instead!"

Of course, I learned over time. Now I know that butter is just as easy to use as margarine as long as you know how. You can't use it straight from the fridge, it has to be room temperature first. You can't just scoop out a lump, you need to scrape off a portion softening it as you do. And you don't really spread it on sliced bread, you have to dab little bits of it here and there and smoosh them out slightly, but it's much better on thick slices of home-made crusty bread, still warm from the oven. In the self-sufficiency blogosphere we talk a lot about the skills our ancestors had, and we try to learn some of them, for example cheese-making, beekeeping, or building with cob. But there are many much more humble skills we have also lost. My parents knew how to use butter, but they never passed the skill on to me and I had to learn the hard way. I am lousy at laying a fire in a hearth but my husband has the knack. When I watch my 5-year-old son try to sweep up some crumbs with a hand brush, I marvel at all the different ways he manages to get such a simple task wrong. These things are simple, but they still need to be learned. Or if the knowledge has skipped a generation, re-learned.

It's tempting to think that modern objects and ways are better than those which have gone before. When we try to do things the "old" way, we often find them difficult and unsatisfactory. But we shouldn't assume our forebears found them so. Maybe we just lack the skills to do it properly, like my first fumbling attempts to spread butter. On the other hand we should avoid the temptation to romanticise the past - there was plenty of gruelling labour and hardship, and we have certainly made progress in some areas which I would not want to give up. My tendencies may be Luddite, but you'll have to prise my wireless internet enabled laptop from my cold dead fingers, for example.

If this admittedly rambling article has a point, it's that knowledge and skills are precious. Every bit as precious as objects and artefacts from the past. Even very menial skills, once lost, are difficult or sometimes impossible to recover. There is a lot of pleasure to be had from mastering a new skill, and even more from passing it on to the next generation.

Why Organic?

My dad asked why we bothered pulling all the couch grass out by hand, rather than just zapping it all with weedkiller. I love this kind of question because it prompts me to think clearly about my philosophy and the basis for my actions.

There are lots of reasons why I choose to garden organically. One of them is much more important than the others, and I will come to that last.

1. It costs money - the people who rented that plot before us told me they sprayed £60 of weedkiller on it. And it's still full of weeds. I can only imagine it would be even worse if they hadn't but still, it cost Ed and I nothing to entirely clear a quarter of it by hand, and we'll do the other three quarters over the next weeks and months.


2. Artificial herbicides, pesticides and fertilisers are made from oil, and the oil is running out. We need to learn how to live without them. Organic gardening isn't a middle-class fad, it's the future.


3. We eat the produce from our allotment. I don't want to put poisons anywhere near our food. Just seems like common sense to me.


4. The ground needed digging anyway (in response to Hedgie's astute observation that digging makes couch grass worse - in fact we forked it, then removed all the roots, then forked again and removed more roots until either there were no more roots or we were fed up). So using weedkiller wouldn't have saved us a job, it would just have saved us the "removing roots" stage of the job.


5. We could have used weedkiller and then hired a rotavator to clear and cultivate the soil. That would have been pretty easy and quick. But then again we could have bought all our veggies from Tesco in the first place, even easier and quicker. But it's not about what's easiest, it's about what's best, in our opinion.


6. It's good exercise. Some people join gyms at great expense and spend an hour a day on treadmills and rowing machines to keep fit, and then they hire someone at great expense to mow their lawn and trim their hedge for them. Seems to me you could save some money on that arrangement and still keep fit. This isn't really a "reason" why I chose to dig, but it is one of several nice benefits.


7. There's a promising new blog called Allotment Junkies which is about allotment gardening and depression recovery. Being out in the daylight, taking vigorous exercise, having short-term achievable goals and seeing the tangible results of your labours (not to mention eating a healthy diet rich in fruit and vegetables) are all proven to be more effective treatment and prevention for depression than anti-depressant drugs. I have experienced depression in the past and have no intention of going there again if I can help it. Digging the garden or allotment helps keep me happy and healthy. This is also a pleasant bonus rather than a reason for my choice.


8. But the main reason why I choose not to use Roundup is that soil is alive. Or rather it is an ecosystem of lots of interdependent organisms - plants, animals, fungi and bacteria, both microscopic and macroscopic. Using herbicides and pesticides damages that ecosystem and in extreme cases can result in sterile i.e. dead soil. As a gardener, I am in the business firstly of creating healthy soil. Healthy plants follow on from that. I won't do anything that damages the health of my soil if I can possibly avoid it, which is the same thing as saying I garden organically.

Braun Blender

I have a very old Braun food processor which used to belong to my parents and my grandmother before them. It's practically indestructible, although as you can see it has needed a few repairs. I was making scones in it once when it vibrated itself clear off the worktop and the Bakelite cover of the mixing attachment shattered. Steph and I glued and gaffer-taped it back together. Also the rubber gasket on the liquidiser perished, but we replaced it with a plastic O-ring from some sort of toy which fits perfectly. And just recently the flex was worn through, so Ed just took it off, trimmed away the worn part, and re-attached it slightly shorter.

I remember dad making lemonade in it when I was in primary school, and mum making cheese scones and grinding granulated sugar into icing sugar when she ran out during the Pope's visit and was making hundreds of yellow-and-white Pope-themed fairy cakes for some church event.

I love using it. It's no heirloom, too precious to use and consequently useless. I make bread, scones, pastry and cakes in the big bowl, I grind cooked chickpeas down to hummus using the mincer, and I blend soups and smoothies in the liquidiser. Because of its history it's much more satisfying to use than the cheap mixer I bought in Curry's. It's a pity there aren't more things like that in our lives - objects we inherit and use every day which carry a wealth of meaning and emotion.

I wrote to dad and asked him if he had any more information about it, and this is his reply:

Hi Mel,

Yes, I well remember buying the Braun. I was a young Boy Telegraphist on board HMS Birmingham and we were visiting Aden, late 1956. The food processor, liquidiser, mincing attachment and coffee grinder cost me the princely sum of £30. My Mum used it for mixing dough to make stotty cakes (twice, thrice, weekly), she made cakes with it, and scones (plain, fruit and cheese) she mixed pastry for pies, both sweet and savoury. She, like your Mum, made mincemeat with cheap offcuts of mutton and lamb. God, she used it for all sorts until, in 1970 when your Mum and I married, she gave it to us. I well remember spending hours paring meat off skirt of lamb to mince to make curries, lamb burgers, spicy lamb pies, etc. It was invaluable on a student's grant as we were then.

Some twelve to fifteen years ago, I remember writing to Braun in Germany, telling them the story of our family food processor and asking if they could help with the replacement of the bowls. They were so impressed with the longevity of the machine, and our fond feelings for it that they sent us the replacements free of charge and wished us many more useful years out of it. It does me old heart good to know that a new generation on it is still going strong and still loved.

Surely it is a good example of well made products give good service over a long life, not the light-weight, throw-away technology of today. Just because it is electronic, it doesn't have to be cheap and nasty, does it?

I really liked dad's point about electronic goods not needing to be cheap and nasty. So many electronic goods we buy are flimsy and short-lived that it is easy to imagine they are somehow inherently fragile. The 50-year-old Braun workhorse in my kitchen proves that isn't true, they're deliberately made that way now so we have to replace them more often.

World Exclusive Interview

Stonehead is a good friend of Bean-Sprouts, and a regular commenter. He has an active blog of his own where he talks about life on a croft in North-East Scotland, environmental and political issues. I'm fascinated because he has gone much further along the road we are travelling, buying a smallholding and living off the land. I interviewed him exclusively for Bean-Sprouts.

Bean-sprouts: Describe a typical day for you.
Stonehead: Hmm, no such thing as a typical day! I get up between 5.30 and 6am. I have a shower every second day to conserve water, then it's straight into getting all the breakfast things ready before making packed lunches. I then head out to do the morning chores, feeding and mucking out the chickens and pigs.

With the chores done, I head inside for breakfast with the rest of the family. The other half heads off for work, the Big Lad gets the school bus, and I take the Wee 'Un to playgroup. If it's playgroup duty day, then I'm out until noon or so helping keep an eye on the children with lots of making stuff and story telling. If it's not playgroup duty, then I have from 9.30 until 11.30 to get jobs done. This can be building chicken houses, working in the vegetable patch, working with the soft fruit and fruit trees, mowing grass, planting, topping, baking, cider making, brewing, preserving.

After collecting the Wee 'Un I either finish off the morning's work or play outside games with the Wee 'Un. If working, we turn it into a play session as well so he can help with parts of the job. The Wee 'Un helps me make lunch, we then do some quick baking before having a quiet play and do some reading while we wait for the Big Lad to get home and for the bakes to cook. With the Big Lad home, we feed the chickens then the boys play together outside while I do more jobs.

From around 4.30pm until 5.30/6pm it's a repeat of the morning chores, the other half usually gets home just as we finish. We eat between 7.15 and 8pm, so that the boys can chill out for a while, then off to bed. Then it's tidy up and relax time. I try to fit in a bit of blogging around then, but usually it's more like 10pm until 11pm as it's nice to spend a bit of time with the other half! Weekends are even busier.

Bean-sprouts: What made you decide to pursue this lifestyle?
Stonehead: We don't regard it as a lifestyle. It's our way of life. I've always wanted either a small farm of my own or a yacht. I like working with animals, I like working the land, I like tinkering, and I like working hard for myself and my family.

I'm a pragmatic green - I don't buy the spiritual, hippy, pagan thing at all. I think we have one world, we have to tread lightly, we have to use resources sparingly and we have to be responsible for our actions. I do get a lot out of being outside in all weathers and enjoy being part of the natural world, but I'm not the communing with nature sort.

One thing I definitely am is an anti-consumer. I have a pathological hatred of being sold stuff that I don't want or need. I accept that I and my family have certain needs that can only be met by shopping, but I try to do so as little as possible. I'm a huge fan of bartering, trading and giving, I love making things and I like being minimalist. This can cause friction with the other half and the boys, but as we're generally in accord most of the time I can fudge on certain things (like TV!).

While I was very good at my career, I was always conscious that I was mainly generating money for people for whom I had little time but I persisted until we had sufficient money to be able to just afford the croft. However, I regarded the whole wage-slave thing as total BS, so once we were in a position to escape to the hills, I grasped it with both hands and got out of there. So why do I pursue this life? Because it's "my" life, just as it's also the other half's. We both choose to share it with each other. (The poor lads haven't much choice at this point!)

Plans for 2007

It's fashionable to say "I don't do New Year resolutions", but I like them. I'm a great believer in turning over a new leaf, in re-inventing yourself, and in taking stock and taking action. In fact, I like resolutions so much I make them all the time, not just at New Year. That's what my monthly challenge polls are about - setting goals and targets and then holding myself to them.

So what changes will we be making in 2007? For one thing, we plan to do more with the allotment. We were only given a quarter of a plot, and half of that was very weedy, the other half having been under plastic sheeting for a season. So we cultivated the clean part, and laid the sheeting down over the weedy areas until spring. It was a smart way to begin, because the area was manageable. In fact we tried to cram rather too much in and some crops suffered from overcrowding. So now we can cultivate the whole of the plot we were given, but we have also been given another section of plot. Maybe this time we're overstretching ourselves, but we'll see.

Another goal for 2007 is to try our hand at beekeeping. I've looked up local courses, and the nearest one is fully booked up. I'm on a waiting list for 2008. But I'm looking further afield, and considering going on a weekend course somewhere. If all else fails perhaps I'll just dive straight in without any lessons. I'm good at learning stuff from books, willing to try things and see if they work, and sensible enough to join a local club for some expert advice if I come unstuck.

The main project for 2007 is to pay off our mortgage. We have calculated that if we were free of our mortgage and largely self-sufficient in food, Ed could afford to give up his full-time job. So we have spent the past couple of days making calculations about how much we can afford to tighten our belts and how quickly that will pay off the loans. Funnily enough this is the part that really makes me feel like we might actually one day buy some land. I'm confident that I can learn the knowledge and skills needed to make it work (perhaps foolhardily so), but what worries me is the ever rising cost of land and property. The financial aspect of buying a smallholding is the daunting bit, and it feels good to make steps towards that.

I'd also like to visit a smallholding or organic farm for some real hands-on experience and a taster of what it would be like to live like that permanently. To that end I have been investigating WWOOFs (voluntary working for brief periods on organic farms). You arrange with a farmer to come and do voluntary work for a weekend. I expect to work hard, but I also expect to learn a lot, not least whether this is really the life for me or should I just stick with my allotment and backyard chickens.

What are your plans for 2007?

Carol Singing

Last night some of my choir, St George's Singers, went carol singing at the hunting lodge of Adlington Hall, a Medieval and Tudor stately home about five miles away from our house. We do this every year, singing for guests in the dining hall. We sing "The Twelve Days Of Christmas", "We Wish You A Merry Christmas" and other well-known carols, and the diners sing along. The choir gets a fee from the hall, and we take a collection for charity at the end. The hall also provides drinks and mince pies for us after we've sung.

It's become a traditional part of Christmas, and I'd feel sorry if I ever had to miss it.

What does this have to do with self-sufficiency? Part of my philosophy on life is to relish the simple things that give me pleasure. Something like singing beautiful music with friends in a gorgeous setting, and then eating mince pies and talking and laughing afterwards, can give me a feeling of fulfilment and well-being that can last for days. I love Christmas, and these are the things I love about it, the things I've been posting about for a week now. Not spending lots of money. Not receiving expensive gifts. Not haring round the shops or sitting in traffic and becoming very stressed. But spending time with friends and family, making things, sharing food, music and appreciating the many blessings I have been given. That is part of self-sufficiency, not only in food, energy or water, but self-sufficiency in happiness and satisfaction.

We Are What We Do

You may have noticed that I'm an idealistic sort of person. I have all kinds of beliefs and values and ideals. I think it is important to base one's choices and actions on a consistent set of principles.

But ideals by themselves are no use at all. What makes a difference in the world is action. It doesn't have to be a big action, lots of small actions can make a big difference. That's why I like We Are What We Do. It's a website that's packed with suggestions for small actions you can do that really make a difference, such as leave work on time and spend that time with your family, practice good manners, or donate your old specs to charity. You can keep track of the actions you have chosen, and chat about them on the message boards.

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This website really chimes with my own philosophy on life. Think, take action, make life a little bit better, believe that you can change the world.

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What am I doing? Well lately I've been spending time with my extended family, I've been getting in touch with friends I haven't seen for a while, I've been playing guitar at church advent services and watching nativity plays at school. I've been getting ready for Christmas.

Vandals Again

There's always vandalism on allotments. I suppose there always will be. I went there today and found my Brussels sprouts had been decapitated, and a red cabbage has been hacked apart with a spade. It could have have been worse, I suppose, but it's still annoying. I was saving those sprouts for Christmas dinner but I've had to pick them to use immediately.

We've been talking over on the selfsufficientish forums about "What is self-sufficiency". Here's my contribution to the discussion:

I saw a quote that said "You can't be self-sufficient in wellington boots". To be wholly self-sufficient and rely on no outside inputs whatever, you'd probably be living a stone-age existence. Which is one way to go if you really want to, but why would you want to?

Humankind is inherently social. We rely on other people. We form communities which help each other. That's a *good thing*. So complete self-sufficiency in that sense doesn't seem like a desirable goal to me.

But it is good to be self-sufficient in some things. Self-sufficientISH is a great way of describing it. I have a personal goal to be self sufficient in fruit and veg. It will take a few years but it's do-able. If we ever get more land I'd like to be self-sufficient in meat and dairy. That's a bigger goal. I'd love to be self-sufficient in energy and water. That would mean solar water heating, photovoltaic cells, a suitable site for a good-sized turbine, and a borehole I expect. It's definitely a long-term goal but it's in my mind.

Until then I try to get my fruit and veg and meat and dairy from local (organic, where possible) producers. We try to reduce our use of electricity and water, because that would be part of being self-sufficient in those things anyway, and we get our electricity from a "green" supplier.

It's not about the destination, it's more about the journey. It's about being aware of the impact of your lifestyle on the planet, and trying to make that impact as benign as possible. At the moment even the whole planet isn't self-sufficient, i.e. we can't sustain this way of living without bringing in resources from elsewhere, but there is no elsewhere. If I aim for self sufficiency, it's at the planet-wide level.

Philosphical Musings About Walnut Trees

I'm still helping dad empty his house in preparation for selling it. We moved there in 1982, six days before Christmas. I was 11. I grew up there, and now dad will sell it to strangers, just as he bought the house from strangers 24 years ago.

People used to live in the house they grew up in, work the land their parents worked. They planted walnut trees, even though walnut trees take 50 years to mature, because they knew their children and grandchildren would benefit, just as they themselves benefited from the work their parents and grandparents had done years before.

I don't know where my grandparents lived. I visited their houses when they were alive, but I don't know the addresses, don't know who is living there now. I won't be planting a walnut tree here. My children won't live in this house.

It seems like that's where we went wrong. One of the places we went wrong, anyway. We lost the sense of connection to the land. We don't know who was here before us, we don't care who will come after. There's no reason to plant walnut trees any more.

Reasons for Self-Sufficiency Continued

Yesterday I linked to Ray Lovegrove's article about The Philosophy of Self-Sufficiency. One of his reasons for self-sufficiency was The Joy of Work. To many people, that's a contradiction in terms. Their idea of joy is winning the lottery and living a life of indolence. But Ray has more to say:

On doing without
There is nothing better than having all that you want - but doesn't that make life a little empty? Doesn't having all you want make you want more - even if "more" is not really important in itself. Doesn't wanting more leave you with closets full of things that you either don't want or you want but have no time to use. Have you got a collection of music that you have no time to listen to, or a collection of books that you have no time to read? Have less. Enjoy what you have. Work hard for what you need. Sometimes you will have to wait - sometimes you wait for a very long time, but you have the joy of expectation. You have the joy of need and the joy of expectation.

This also struck a deep chord with me. Over on uk.rec.sheds, my spiritual home, we were recently discussing the pleasure of watching old black-and-white movies on a weekday afternoon, because there was nothing else on. This was sparked by the comment:

Now, however, kids can find an endless supply of whatever they want to watch; if they want to watch three episodes an hour of ScoobiDoo then they can. Add to that the absence of the old films anyway, the serendipity of afternoon TV has gone, probably for ever.

In our age of choice it's unusual to choose to do without, but I believe there is much to be gained from it.

Reasons for Self-Sufficiency

I recently read the following exchange on the downsizer.net forums:

Topic: Rhubarb

Q. We still have a lot left on the plant. Some people say take it off and use it, others say leave it on the plant to die off over winter - what should we do?

A. Dig it all out, tarmac the area, paint it green, and buy fresh from Tesco. Bound to be cheaper, and more convenient.

Well, it made me laugh. And then it made me think - that's true. It is cheaper and more convenient to get your food from the shops, to buy your clothes and bedding, your furniture and soap and gifts. So why do I make many of those things myself? And why do I yearn to make even more of them, to become as self-sufficient as I can?

The answer surprised me.

And what surprised me even more is that somebody else has already come up with the same answer and written eloquently about it. This is an extract from an article by Ray Lovegrove:

On the joy of work
Compare if you will, the joys of chopping a pile of firewood with filing your monthly sales figures. Compare a trip to the supermarket with collecting eggs from your chickens. Compare sitting in a long, long meeting on a spring afternoon with sowing vegetable seeds. Imagine falling into bed so tired with your efforts that you fall asleep at once, never giving a thought to how to hit your monthly target. Imagine the pure satisfaction in building your own chicken coop or knitting your own sweater - simple joys but real joys. Sure, you are giving up your paycheque, but oh, what a joy to work for yourself to produce what you need.

The joy of work. That means a lot to me. Life is too short to spend 38 hours a week doing something you hate. But I've never been attracted to winning the lottery and living a life of indolence. Ray has something to say about that, too. I'll write some more about it tomorrow.