I moved with my husband and kids to rural Kent to try to grow our own food to alleviate even the harshest crisis next year. Unfortunately, crops are as complicated as the latest withdrawal agreement
In January 2017, my husband, Jared, and I moved our family from a semi in Ramsgate to a ramshackle house in rural Kent that came with two acres of mud. Our desire for change was born of the political, social and environmental turmoil. There was certainly a naive pursuit of the good life, but we were also reeling from the outcome of the Brexit referendum and feeling sick about Trump’s presidency. We needed a personal survival plan.
In the face of a world shifting in a direction we could no longer understand, predict or rely on (and despite having no practical skills or experience), we sought a shared vocation that was less tied to systems and structures that appeared to be wobbling. We planned to grow and raise some of our own food and – as wildfires, floods and landslides hinted at the impact of climate change – move towards a more sustainable way of life. It felt like a personal resistance that would be good for our family life and physical and mental health, as well as teaching us new skills.
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