How rural living kicked me in the seat of my pants
I spent much of my working life in Manchester thinking about escape.
Every morning I drove past Heaton Park and it was all I could do to stop myself turning right and heading up the drive.
I lived for the weekend when I would be up at dawn to capitalise on my time in the park. With 800 acres of woods, grassed areas, lakes and paths, it was my sanctuary. My weekly visits sustained me through my 30s and 40s.
On Saturday and Sunday mornings I’d spend 5 or 6 hours there. Gone by 11:00 a.m. when most people arrived, I liked to have some of the park to myself for a while. I knew the place like the back of my hand, the quiet spots, the off the beaten track areas, the secret spaces.
My quest was to photograph light. A leaf, illuminated. Pools of sunshine on the forest floor. Over the years I took thousands and thousands of photos, unconsciously tracking the seasons, whatever the weather.
In contrast, my working week was indoors, in offices or in the car. Always suited and booted, my constant thought was there has to be more to life than this.
I loathed the philosophy of hustle and crushing it, the constant quest to do more, achieve bigger goals, and keep proving yourself. Over and over. Hard work and great results were never quite enough.
But I kept going. I didn’t know what the alternative might be. I tried a few times to forge my own path. Not always successfully.
What never changed was a sense that there was an alternative route through life. I’ve felt this increasingly during the last decade, and more so since we relocated to Derbyshire.
Moving here has felt like going back in time. When people could leave their doors unlocked. When everyone knew each other, and helped out when needed.
An unspoken barter system exists. Neighbours bring us cake. We share produce from the farm. There’s a sense of community that no longer existed in Manchester.
We’re very lucky to be surrounded by so much open space and farms. I’ve found my niche here.
I love spending time at our smallholding. That’s where the sheep and lambs are too. And Douglas, the sheepdog, who’s a big fan of mine!
Each year has a rhythm. The arrival of snowdrops coincides with the first lambs. There will be daffodils soon after and I’ll be heading to Daffodil Field to see the sheep and the host of golden daffodils.
There will be a slightly late Wassail, a Burns Night whisky tasting at a local village hall (not for me but Chris and Phil will be partaking). Twice yearly quiz nights, Lent soup lunch, and harvest suppers. Summer sheep shearing.
Some have described our life as too slow but we’ve never been as busy.
The pace of life here is different.
There are no advertising hoardings. I have no idea what’s popular any more. We don’t watch TV so see no adverts there either. Our shops are local and independent, often selling farm or regional produce. I buy clothes from the nearby agricultural merchants when I pop in there for poultry feed.
Last year we swapped our car for a more suitable 4x4 (I’ve driven across fields and rounded up sheep in it!). Most of my footwear is farm-related.
Putting on my muddy wellies, farm coat (splattered with who knows what), and occasionally a hat, and then heading off to the sheep shed is when I’m happiest. Pitching in to help Phil the farmer move sheep to another field, or to check feet, or to administer a worming solution is part of my every day.
Eating eggs laid by our hens is just the best. Being able to say to visitors, take half a dozen eggs with you, is one of the joys of country living.
We’ve started making our own butter. We grow veg in our raised beds. We buy food direct from the farmer.
While I wouldn’t describe myself as self-sufficient, we’re increasingly heading that way.
My focus is on doing more of those things that make me happy, and less of what doesn’t.
Although I love my tech, I’ve been paring back on what I use, and removing distractions. My mobile phone is mostly set to do not disturb. I’ve configured my iPhone so that social media apps don’t appear on my screen but live in the app library. The focus settings contribute to my minimal phone setup. I’ve not used Facebook for years. Instagram has stuck purely because I like taking and sharing photos. I use lists and a Chrome Extension for X/Twitter so that I can keep up with tech and writing content but avoid other stuff.
I use tools such as Twos and Voicenotes to keep tabs on my to do lists and to capture thoughts and ideas. In the past I’ve had very convoluted tech setups. Although I love apps such as Obsidian and Tana, they come with lots of customisation options. It’s easy to spend too much time customising and not enough time creating.
I’ve spent a lot of my life doing things I had to do but didn’t always want to do. Ever since my thirties this has nagged away at me. But I didn’t do anything about it.
For any number of reasons you may have done the same. We all have bills and other commitments, and life isn’t always straightforward or easy.
But this is now or never. Either I do what I’ve written on my wishlist or I don’t. I choose do.
I have no idea where this is leading. I have vague ideas whizzing around my head. I’ve taken inspiration lately from some unexpected podcasts and their guests.
I know there are many others out there with similar experiences, hopes and dreams. I can only share my own story - or invite you to share yours on my podcast. I hope this resonates and inspires you to embrace your own version of now or never.