When I was little, I used to love watching the ‘70s British sitcom “The Good Life”. It chronicled the lives of Tom and Barbara Good, two middle-aged, middle-class Britons who leave the rat race and don chunky wooly jumpers and wellie boots in their bid to become self-sufficient in suburbia. Way before it was cool to compost, follow the 100-Mile Diet and raise chickens in your backyard, Tom and Barbara were rearing goats, making their own cheese and peapod burgundy, dying wool with nettle juice and driving around town in their homemade, methane-powered car.
At seven years of age, I dreamed of living a life like theirs. I still do today, but it occurred to me that I’m actually not far from reaching that goal. I’ve got:
- a composter
- a neighbour with chickens
- wellies
- a dedicated wooly gardening jumper
- a lovely garden in which I grow all manner of veg (especially peas)
I’ve even got a hunky, wool-jumper-and-wellie-clad husband called Tom!
Now I've just got to ditch that day job.
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