Sunday was crisp and autumnal, so we packed up the kids and dogs and drove from the bottom of Hampshire to the top. The destination was Greenham Common in Thatcham - once a WWII airbase, then a Cold War missile base, home to a Women’s Peace Camp for 19 years, and now a nature reserve. Somebody recommended it to me when I last mentioned my love for abandoned spaces and industrial archaeology. (Show me a slab of concrete encased in brambles and I’m yours.)

This place was the whole package. Fire hydrants hiding behind gorse bushes. A solitary patch of concrete runway. An empty flag pole marking the old turning circle. And the control tower was now the cafe, run by a team of committed volunteers (I’ve never been so ready to donate some cold, hard cash). The whole site exceeded all my expectations and we had the best day ever - including the dogs, who spent hours lolloping about in the sun.

The highlight of the trip was the Decontamination Suite in building 274, which was part of a Cold War US Airbase between 1982 and 1991. Parts of this building have walls made of steel-reinforced, blast-proof concrete and solid blast-proof doors, all designed to be self-sufficient in air, water and sanitation if the enemy attacked and the airbase was completely shut down.

The purpose of the decontamination suite would have been to cleanse personnel of nerve agents in the events of a chemical attack, including napalm. It was only ever used for exercises rather than real attacks, which meant no chemicals came into contact with the base. Still, it was super eerie and amazingly well kept considering it has rarely been opened to the public since the Americans left in the 90s.

From 1981 to 2000, Greenham was also home to a Women’s Peace Camp that became an important symbol in the fight against nuclear arms, both in the UK and abroad. The camp began when a female activist group called Women for Life on Earth arrived at Greenham to protest against the government’s decision to allow American cruise missiles to be stored there.

Over the next 19 years, women from all backgrounds practiced their right to protest, often speaking from the perspective of mothers caring for the collective children of the future. They sang songs, made posters, chained themselves to railings, destroyed parts of the perimeter fence, and even danced on the missile storage silos as they were being constructed. One mass protest called ‘Embrace the Base’ saw over 20,000 women joining hands around the perimeter of the common.

Time after time, they were arrested and detained, always returning to the base and practicing their right to peaceful protest. Some of the locals formed vigilante groups to intimidate and attack them, refusing to serve them in shops and pubs, while the police would release them in the middle of the night, miles from anywhere after their arrest, forcing them to walk long distances back to rejoin the camp. The government claimed the camps lured in illegal immigrants and terrorists, while a group of local housewives claimed the women did not care for the future of humanity, because they had left their own children and domestic duties at home in order to protest.

Despite all the backlash, they persisted in their protest, and the missiles were removed from Greenham Common in 1988. It is now a nature reserve run by the Wildlife Trust, home to rare orchids, nightingales, skylarks and butterflies. The airbase buildings and relics are maintained by volunteers, who were all brilliant and passionate.

It was great to take Olive to a place that has come to symbolise the power of peaceful protest and the resilience of women against all the horrors of the world.

Bilberries are basically smaller, tarter versions of blueberries; the former are native to Europe and the latter to America. They thrive in acidic, low-nutrient soils, first appearing in early summer as pink, bell-shaped flowers, ripening through late summer and early autumn into small, dark berries.

Foraging them is definitely a labour of love. They are tiny and not very densely clustered on the branches, so in the two hours we spent gathering them, we only managed to collect enough for one jar of jam and one dish of crumble. Needless to say, the kids contributed exactly zero bilberries to the tub and just ate them all instead. You can envision the state of their hands, sleeves and faces by the end.

The dogs ate a few, too. Pablo’s usual preference is blackberries straight off the branches, but he was just happy to be out and about after he was bitten by an adder a few weeks ago. His whole leg swelled up but fortunately we got him to the vet before it spread past his hock, so he didn’t need any anti-venom - just an overnight stay at the vets and lots of love. He’s back to normal now but we’re steering clear of heathland on hot, sunny days just in case, as adders love basking in the sunshine.

When we got home, we made bilberry and rhubarb jam and it was so delicious, I saved most of it to enter into our local flower show next month. We also made a dish of bilberry and rhubarb crumble, served with a dollop of Greek yoghurt because we’d run out of cream. This was the recipe we used for the jam, which you can adjust for however many bilberries you manage to gather. You can also swap in blueberries if you have a garden glut:

Wild Bilberry Jam

1 part bilberries
1 part rhubarb, sliced
Big squeeze of lemon juice
1 part white sugar

Add the bilberries, sliced rhubarb and lemon juice to a large pot and cook over a medium heat for 5-10 minutes until softened. Use a potato masher to gently mash the fruit, then add the sugar and continue to boil over a medium to high heat for an additional 20-25 minutes until it is gloopy and jammy. Spoon the jam into sterilised jars and allow to cool slightly before securing the lid.

Rich in nutrients and antioxidants, bilberries have been used in traditional European medicine for hundreds of years. They are a good source of anthocyanins, which may help reduce inflammation, lower blood sugar and improve heart health. They may also improve eye health and function, including helping with eye fatigue and strain, headaches, shoulder tension and blurred vision. Bilberries are safe in small amounts but the leaves are toxic in high doses and should not be consumed. The berries are also rich in vitamin K so may interfere with conventional blood-thinning medicines.

Bilberries are one of the species I included in my latest book Concise Medicinal Plants (Bloomsbury, 2025) - a pocket-sized companion to help you identify healing plants in the UK and northern Europe and learn how to use them. Each species entry includes basic information on where to find each plant, their medicinal uses and details on their toxicity and potential side effects. You can treat yourself to a copy in all good bookshops - my favourite is Bookshop.org or your local independent bookshop.

I always link all my book recommendations to Bookshop because they are basically the antithesis of horrible Amazon. Every purchase made supports independent bookshops around the world, with 30% of the cover price going to them directly. And their affiliate programme is far more generous than Amazon, which means every time you buy through one of my links, you’re supporting me directly. Thank you!

Bookshop is a brilliant place to buy books online, and even better - all orders placed before midnight tonight will qualify for FREE delivery. If you’re new to my writing, here are my 5 bestselling books and why you might like them. Enjoy!

Ebb and Flow: A Guide to Seasonal Living
(Bloomsbury, 2024)

An inspirational illustrated guide to embracing each season and finding peace, mindfulness and joy throughout the year. It’s big, bright and beautiful, ideal for dipping into as the seasons change, and full of ways to connect with the wheel of the year. Each section begins with an introduction to the season, then details what you can grow and forage, the wildlife you can spot and which seasonal behaviours to look out for, crafts, seasonal activities, and illustrated spreads explaining lunar phases, hibernation, stargazing and more.

The perfect gift for: Nature lovers, ramblers and hikers, quiet creatives, slow living enthusiasts, gardeners, foragers and foodies.

Concise Foraging Guide and Concise Medicinal Plants
(Bloomsbury, 2021 & 2025)

Pocket guides to the edible and medicinal plants of the UK and Europe, fully illustrated and perfect for long walks. The Concise Guides series is lightweight, super useful and ideal for chucking in your rucksack, helping you identify new species and learn more about their culinary and medicinal uses.

The perfect gift for: Dog walkers who stop to look at every flower, seasonal chefs and foodies, holistic health lovers, curious travellers and families.

Dark Skies: A Journey into the Wild Night
(Bloomsbury, 2019)

A year travelling through different nightscapes across the UK and beyond, where I experienced 24-hour daylight swimming in the Gulf of Finland, witnesses the Northern Lights in Norway, hiked through a haunted yew forest, embarked on a nocturnal sail down the River Dart, and investigated how our experiences of the night-time world have permeated our history, folklore, science, geography, art and literature.

The perfect gift for: Night owls, stargazers, astrologists, travellers, landscape lovers, twilight walkers, moon gazers and night swimmers.

The Bridleway: How Horses Shaped the British Landscape
(Bloomsbury, 2023)

A nature travelogue exploring how the relationship between humans and horses has shaped the landscape, and how this connection has become part of our nation’s ecosystems. Winner of the Elwyn Hartley-Edwards Award for Equine Writing, 2023.

The perfect gift for: Equestrians, hackers, gallopers, animal lovers, bridleway walkers, long distance hikers, historians, archaeologists and rewilders.

I’ve been seeking out new plants, too, because they have been at the forefront of my mind since my second book in Bloomsbury’s Concise series was released in May. Concise Medicinal Plants is my new pocket-guide to all the plants around the UK and Europe that have traditional or scientific uses in the field of medicine.

Today I thought I’d share five of those species with you, all of which are so abundant and easy to find, you are likely to find them already growing somewhere in your garden. For full details on identification, distribution and toxicity of these plants, I recommend treating yourself to a copy of the book or researching the subject further elsewhere. I’ve also included a useful disclaimer at the end of this post with safety advice on foraging and growing new plants.

Rosemary (Salvia rosmarinus) ↑

In aromatherapy, rosemary oil is traditionally associated with improving cognitive function and memory. One theory is that inhaling rosemary oil may help prevent the breakdown of acetylcholine, a brain chemical important for concentration and memory. It has also been used topically to soothe headaches and as an insect repellent.

Dandelion (Taraxacum officinale) ↑

The leaves and flowers are rich in vitamins, particularly A and C. The roots and leaves have diuretic properties and have historically been made into a tea infusion. Dandelions have also been used as a remedy for kidney and liver ailments.

Pot Marigold (Calendula officinalis) ↑

Traditionally valued for its antiseptic, antifungal and antibacterial properties, pot marigold has been used in poultices and compresses to treat burns, ulcers, chilblains and impetigo. It can also be made into a tincture and used as eyedrops or a mouthwash to treat gum infections and ulcers.

Common Nettle (Urtica dioica) ↑

All aerial parts are rich in vitamins A and C, as well as iron and other minerals. It has traditionally been used to treat a range of ailments, including inflammation, enlarged prostate gland, hay fever and high blood pressure. It may also help treat urinary tract infections and may protect the liver against toxins.

Elder (Sambucus nigra) ↑

Berries are often taken as a supplement to treat cold and flu symptoms. Historically, the flowers and leaves have also been used to relieve pain and swelling, while the bark was used as a diuretic, a laxative and to induce vomiting.

If you’d like your own little copy of Concise Medicinal Plants, you can do so in all the usual places! My favourite place to shop online is Bookshop.org, direct from Bloomsbury, or head to your local indie bookshop and support them. Thank you!

Using Herbal Medicines

Just like conventional medicines, herbal medicines may have a significant effect on the body and can be potentially harmful if not used correctly. They should, therefore, be used with the same caution and respect as conventional medicines. If you are seeking help for any illness or health condition, it is wise to speak to both herbal and Western medical practitioners in order to find the best treatment for you. It is particularly important to check with a conventional doctor before taking herbal remedies if you have any pre-existing medical conditions, or if you are having radiotherapy, surgery in the near future, other cancer treatments or if you are pregnant or breastfeeding. Herbal medicines can cause problems if you are taking conventional medicines at the same time, such as making them less effective or causing them to trigger unexpected side effects. Not all herbal medicines are regulated if you source them from somewhere else, and scientific evidence for the effectiveness of herbal medicines is generally limited. There are, however, plenty of people who find them helpful.

Growing your Own Herb Garden

The majority of the plants featured in this guide are suitable for cultivation, which means you can grow them at home instead of sourcing them from the wild. With the exception of invasive, highly abundant wild plants, it is always the better option to grow your own plants for medicinal use. Not only can you be sure you’re not damaging fragile populations of wild plants, you can also make sure they are less exposed to pollutants and chemicals, making them safer for general use. You don’t need a huge garden to start growing your own medicinal herbs. In fact, many can be grown in pots or containers, on balconies, windowsills and patios. If you do have the garden space, remember that most herbs grow best in a sheltered, sunny spot on well draining soil. You may also want to group certain herbs together depending on their type or needs. For example, the native Mediterranean plants may thrive best in full sun and poor soil, while quick-spreading herbs like mint or lemon balm should be contained in their own dedicated area to stop them taking over the garden.

Foraging Wild Plants

If you are sourcing plants from the wild, remember to only pick the amounts you need to ensure plant populations remain healthy, and leave plenty for the birds and wildlife. Familiarise yourself with the legal implications of picking wild plants in your country. It’s also important to recognise the difference between picking a leaf or flower and uprooting the entire plant. A partially-picked plant can usually regenerate and survive, but an uprooted plant is gone forever. Avoid taking plants from fragile nature reserves or wildlife-sensitive areas. Do not trespass on private land, and avoid searching along the edges of large agricultural fields which have often been treated with chemicals. Similarly, watch out for popular dog walking routes. And remember - if you’re not completely sure of a species, don’t pick it. There are plenty of other resources - including the internet - that can help you clarify what you’ve found, but if you’re still not completely sure about a new species, it just isn’t worth the risk.

Founded by literary superqueen Rebeka Russell, Manderley specialises in new editions of old, forgotten gems - stories from the last few decades that deserve a new lease of life.

Their latest is Sun Horse, Moon Horse, originally published by the late, great Rosemary Sutcliff in 1977.

Sun Horse, Moon Horse is a captivating tale of courage and destiny, set against the ancient hills of Iron Age Britain.

Originally written as a children’s book but perfect for all ages, Sutcliff weaves history and legend into a poignant narrative that resonates through the ages.

As tensions mount between his tribe and encroaching invaders, Lubrin Dhu, the young chieftain of the Iceni tribe, carves the iconic chalk horse into the rolling hills, a symbol of strength, unity and hope.

I was honoured to be asked to write the introduction for this title after Rebeka spotted my book The Bridleway: How Horses Changed the British Landscape (Bloomsbury, 2023) in a shop one day.

I had written about the power of the Uffington chalk horse, the markings etched into our landscapes over thousands of years and how storytelling can transcend time to bring us closer together.

It was wonderful to write the introduction and celebrate the magic of writing about the past - a period so long ago, so different to the one in which we now live, it takes huge cognitive strength to even imagine the mundanities of daily life, let alone adventure, danger, love and death.

Above all, this story is a reminder of the wisdom and resilience of children in a world that can be far too quick to dismiss the voices of the young.

If you haven’t explored the Manderley Press collection yet, I highly recommend you treat yourself to a new edition of an old classic.

Rebeka hand-selects stories from the archives, sweet talks contemporary authors to write new introductions for them, then further sweet talks amazing illustrators to design them. Her next coup is The Strange House, an old Raymond Briggs story with a new introduction by Chris Riddell - what a combo!

If you’re interested to hear more about Sun Horse, Moon Horse and its themes of white horses, English hillscapes, storytelling and ancient lives, I’m delighted to invite you to a special event at Daunt Books in Oxford on Tuesday 10th June at 7pm.

I’ll be hanging out with editor and literary critic Lucy Scholes to discuss the book over a glass of wine, and we would love for you to join us.

Tickets are just £5 - we’ll see you there!

I love being a contributor to the Concise series (and there may be a few more coming 🤫). They are such wonderful little books, packed with information but small and light enough to carry in your pocket. But this one was particularly fun because it felt like the perfect extension of my foraging guide.

Not foraging for food, but medicinal properties, which is something I’m really fascinated by. I am a big supporter of modern medicine and everything it provides for us, but it is empowering to explore complimentary options too - the herbs, balms and tonics our ancestors used to keep themselves healthy.

Concise Medicinal Plants includes 163 illustrated species found throughout the UK and Europe. Not only does it include where to find them, their medicinal properties and toxicity information, but at the front of the book I’ve also included information on growing, harvesting and preserving your own medicinal herbs, as well as simple techniques for making topical balms, teas and tinctures.

If you’d like your own little copy of Concise Medicinal Plants (she’s real cute), you can do so in all the usual places! My favourite place to shop online is Bookshop.org, direct from Bloomsbury, or head to your local indie bookshop and support them. Thank you!

In olde worlde Britain, Beltain was one of the seasonal fire festivals held to celebrate the ever-turning wheel of the year - in this case, the transition from spring to summer. The festival culminates with the burning of a 30ft wickerman, this year designed to look like an ominous gladiator. I spent time with friends and family in the sun, sipped local pear cider and watched a pair of newly arrived swifts soaring through the sky.

The kids and I also harnessed the Beltain sunshine by making cyanotype prints in the garden using flowers and leaves. Cyanotypes are one of my favourite crafting activities with the kids because it is fairly tidy, and even tiny hands have the dexterity to move leaves and flowers around on a piece of paper, so it really does feel like their own original creation.

I made these two postcard-sized prints to turn into birthday cards this month. On the left, I found a single violet growing next to our compost heap, and on the right I arranged the same violet with a bluebell stem (homegrown) and a forget-me-not. I like the fact that the violet leaf looks like a heart.

If you’d like to have a go at making cyanotypes, I shared a step-by-step guide in my book Ebb and Flow: A Guide to Seasonal Living, which came out last year with Bloomsbury. It’s a lovely craft for celebrating the lengthening days, and absolutely anyone can do it even if you don’t consider yourself ‘creative’, because the focus is on shapes and composition rather than designing something from scratch. Enjoy! x

The particular woodland area I go to every season is so full of wild garlic that it seems to spread further and further each year, lining the paths and filling the air with that lovely, pungent aroma. Even so, I made sure to stagger my pickings, gathering a few from each spot before moving onto a different one until I had enough to fill a jar.

After a good rinse with cold water to remove as many bugs as possible, I popped them in the jar with a warm solution of cider vinegar, sugar and salt. There was a suggestion to add pink peppercorns which, admittedly, would have looked pretty, but accidentally biting into a peppercorn is a horrible experience and I am just not willing to risk it. To prevent the buds from floating to the top and growing mould, I pushed them down with a circle of plastic I cut from the recycling, and then held that in place with two spare Calpol pipettes to keep everything submerged.

After a few weeks in the fridge, I’ll be scattering these over homemade pizza and pasta throughout the summer, which will not only be delicioso but also a little health boost - as you will discover if you pick up my next book!

If you enjoyed my bestselling Concise Foraging Guide, you’ll love my second contribution to the series, Concise Medicinal Plants, which will be published on 15 May with Bloomsbury. It features 163 medicinal plant species you can forage and grow around the UK and Europe, including how to identify, harvest, store, preserve and prepare them.

Here’s a little extract about the health benefits of wild garlic:

If you’d like to pre-order Concise Medicinal Plants, you can do so in all the usual places! My favourite place to shop online is Bookshop.org, or head to your local indie bookshop and support them. Thank you!

If you’ve enjoyed my book Ebb and Flow: A Guide to Seasonal Living, you’ll love this smaller sister book about connecting with the seasons - with a Japanese twist!

Of all the beautiful words in the Japanese language, kisetsukan is perhaps the most appropriate for this book. It refers to the concept of being guided by the changing seasons, living in harmony with the natural world, and existing in a way that is emotionally, intellectually and physically connected to nature’s cycles. But in the ancient Japanese calendar, there are more than just four seasons to align yourself with. Spring, summer, autumn and winter are each divided into six, and each of these 24 subdivisions (sekki) are then further divided into three, to make a total of 72 microseasons (kō), each lasting around five or six days.

This traditional almanac, which is based on the lunisolar calendar, dates back to the sixth century, when it came to Japan from China via Korea. At its heart is an appreciation of the agricultural and natural cycles, the plants and animals that make up an ecosystem and, in turn, a society.

My new book is not simply about these Japanese microseasons, but about how we can take the symbolism of each one and weave it into our own lives. How can we learn from nature as we go about our day-to-day tasks and behaviours? It was a lovely book to research and write, particularly because I was lucky enough to collaborate with the hugely talented Tamae Mizukami, a Tokyo-born illustrator whose beautiful, delicate illustrations perfectly capture the colours, forms and subtleties found within the natural world.

To celebrate the launch of Microseasons, I thought I’d share the spread below, taken from the sekki translated as Grain Rain, which is the sekki we are currently in here in the UK. This microseason is all about new growth and planting seeds, which is perfect as I’ve spent the weekend transplanting seedlings and caring for the flowers and vegetable crops growing in our garden. Studies have found that gardening and tending to plants has a wide range of mental health benefits, including combating depression, anxiety, stress and high blood pressure. It doesn’t matter if you have an acre of land or a kitchen windowsill; there is always something to grow, and you may be surprised at how fulfilling it can be.

If you’d like your own copy of Microseasons, it is published in the UK on Thursday 24 April and will be available in all good bookshops, online or offline. I always recommend Bookshop or World of Books, but you can find it anywhere. It has already been released in the US, so if you need a little distraction (no reason, no reason), you can find it in Barnes & Noble.

See below for a few of my favourite spring things growing in our garden at the moment!

It took half an hour to get into the bloody things, you could barely move around in them, and I was so traumatised that I didn’t really wear jeans for most of my twenties. Of course, some teenagers would just think, screw you! I shan’t bend to the whims and trends of my peers. I shall wear what I like! But those teens are rare and precious - I was very much one to wear what the others wore, keen to fit in and be a part of the 2006 zeitgeist even if I cut off my blood circulation in the process. Beauty is pain when you’re young and insecure.

Watching the spring buds emerge and the bulbs sprout out of the ground (our alliums are full of potential), it’s impossible not to focus on youth and new life at this time of year. My kids are really into the Dutch-Japanese anime Moomin series from the 90s and this morning they were watching the Fortune Teller episode, in which Moomin and Sniff decide to pedal a snake oil to try and get rich using honey and water to make a ‘youth elixir’.

When they try and sell eternal youth to Mr Hemulen, a well-meaning, plant-loving old creature, to their complete surprise, he rejects them completely.

People often talk whimsically about returning to their youth. Oh to be young again! If I speak about it now at the tender age of 33, I’m not really taken seriously because I am still, by all accounts, young. But it’s still been twenty years since my teens, and I’m telling you now, you couldn’t pay me to relive those years. I was happy enough, had lots of friends and fun, went to parties and enjoyed school. I had a good old fashioned teenhood, but the trouble with that is, alongside the fun and frolics, life is abuzz with insecurity. The wheel of life is meant to roll forward, not back, and with every new day we gain an extra spoke to help us push forth with confidence and experience.

This forward motion is one of the themes of my latest book Ebb and Flow (Bloomsbury, 2025), which is all about living in tune with the rhythm of the year, embracing every aspect of the seasons, and enjoying the privilege of every new day we get to spend on earth. (In human form, at least.) Nature is the ultimate youth elixir, am I right?

You can buy your own copy of Ebb and Flow: A Guide to Seasonal Living from all good bookshops, but I particularly recommend Bookshop, RSPB, World of Books (second hand and I still receive a royalty - double win!) or direct from my lovely publisher, Bloomsbury. Thank you!

Before I go, could I direct you to this article about how Meta has been stealing authors’ books and using them to train their AI without permission? Oh yes, you heard that right. All of mine have been stolen, and most of the other authors I know. There was a big old protest this week and plenty of conversation happening, but it’s difficult to know how to face down a bazillion dollar company headed by a literal psychopath. Still, knowledge is power! So please read the article and support your fave authors here:

• Sign this petition to protect authors’ livelihoods from the unlicensed use of their work in AI training

• Borrow books from the library - not only does this support our precious libraries, but authors still get royalties!

• Leave positive reviews online, even on nasty Amazon

• Push pins into a Mark Zuckerberg doll

• If you can, treat yourself to a physical book from a nice, ethical bookseller, or buy one as a gift for someone else. Who doesn’t love a book?

The second post in my dabble with American cinema is all about the 1993 psychological thriller Falling Down, directed by Joel Schumacher of The Lost Boys and Phone Booth fame. It stars Michael Douglas as an unemployed defence worker who becomes violently frustrated with the everyday flaws and injustices he encounters within the hot and sweaty Los Angeles society in which he lives.

The depiction of LA is pretty unflattering, a cruel, consumerist hellhole full of crime and corruption. The main character William Foster - who Simpsons fans will recognise in the Foster-based character of Frank Grimes - leaves his car in the middle of a stifling traffic jam and decides to walk back to the home of his ex-wife and daughter, an odyssey that leads him through the various stages of his declining mental health, purposelessness and toxic masculinity. He is pursued by the contrasting yet complimentary character of Martin Prendergast (played by Robert Duvall), a police detective dealing with his own lack of fulfilment in both his marriage and career.

Foster represents the ‘old ways’ of America, by which you supposedly worked hard, found moderate success and remained a valuable, dignified member of society. Foster always thought he was working towards something important - in his case, protecting the country from ‘communists’ through his defence work. But by the time the nineties rolled around and he stepped out of the symbolic traffic jam in which we have all been demoted from citizens into consumers, Foster realises how corrupt everything really is. Even Prendergast confirms his miserable epiphany:

‘Is that what this is about? You're angry because you got lied to? Is that why my chicken dinner is drying out in the oven? Hey, they lie to everyone. They lie to the fish.’

This film was released at the beginning of a prosperous decade that ended with the infamous Woodstock ‘99 festival in Rome, New York. If ever an event represented the descent into consumerism, greed and toxic masculinity, this was it - the day the music died. Although it shared a name with the iconic 1969 festival forty years earlier, one of the reasons there was so little similarity between the two was because the central ideas behind the original Woodstock - peace, music and unity - could no longer exist in a world where overconsumption, neoliberalism and growing wealth inequality had taken over every aspect of American life. Instead of peace, music and unity, the event was marred by a heatwave, overpriced food and water, poor sanitation, sexual abuse and rapes, rioting, looting, vandalism, arson, violence and several deaths. At its heart, Woodstock had become an opportunity for profit, not peace. (Coincidentally, Ocean Colour Scene released their banger Profit in Peace the same year.)

When we become consumers instead of citizens, we lose our purpose, our sense of worth within a wider, nurturing community. When individuals are valued over society as a whole, people like Foster emerge in a haze of anger, poor mental health and disillusionment. It is a pattern that has only become more prevalent in the face of Trump’s MAGA America, in which angry young men are turning to violence, misogyny and racism because they have been stripped of self-worth and encouraged to blame immigrants (lazy thieves), the poor (lazy scroungers) or women (entitled bitches) - anyone except the powerful elites who profit from their anger.

There was an interesting range of female representations in the film, including Foster’s ex-wife and mother of his child, who recognised his violent nature early enough to get a restraining order before he could physically attack her or their daughter. When he threatens to visit her again, she calls the police to ask for help, only to be humoured for a while, called hysterical behind her back and questioned (by a male officer) why she went to such lengths if he never actually hit her:

‘Did he strike you?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘Not exactly?’
‘You know, there were times when I thought he was going to, but I just didn’t want to wait until he got around to it. It’s hard to explain. He could, I think.’
‘You think?’

One reviewer described this film as a Rorschach test, capable of being interpreted in multiple ways depending on the viewer’s own values and biases. I pitied Foster’s character and understood why he felt the way he did, despite his resulting actions being wrong. But in many ways, the tragedy was not in his rage and violence, but to whom those feelings were directed. Just like today’s angry young men, the violence is rarely aimed at the perpetrators (with the exception of anti-heroes like Luigi Mangione). Aside from his wife, most of Foster’s anger was aimed at people like the fast food servers, not the conglomerates who employ them. Or the Korean shop owner who overpriced his stock, rather than the wider economic system that enabled him to do it. But he is a man with poor mental health, crushed beneath unregulated capitalism and left with no purpose, no future or self-worth. His actions are wrong, but they ask the right question: What are we living for?

Six more films based in California

Clueless (1995)
Loosely based on Jane Austen’s Emma, a rich high-school student from Beverly Hills learns to cope with adolescence whilst also helping a new student gain popularity and discovering she has feelings for someone else.

Milk (2008)
The story of American gay activist Harvey Milk, who fought for gay rights and was elected as California's first openly gay official.

Almost Famous (2000)
A talented teenage journalist from San Diego gets a once in a lifetime opportunity to tour with a rock band in the 1970s and write his first cover story about the experience.

Chinatown (1974)
Mrs Mulwray hires a detective (played by Jack Nicholson) who specialises in matrimonial cases to spy on her husband, the builder of the city's water system. When Mr Mulwray dies, he finds himself in a web of deceit.

Lady Bird (2017)
A fiercely independent teenager tries to make her own way in the world while wanting to get out of her hometown of Sacramento, and to get away from her complicated mother and recently-unemployed father.

Escape from Alcatraz (1979)
Starring Clint Eastwood, three daring men make a possibly successful attempt at escaping from one of the most infamous prisons in the world.

Friends, I’m excited to report that it is now ready to drink and oh my gahd, it’s an absolute treat. Dave and I taste-tested it last week and it was dangerously drinkable because you could barely even taste the booze. Sharp and tangy with a hint - according to Dave’s palette - of capers. Or in the words of Alan Partridge: ‘This tastes like Chewits.’

Basically what we have here is adult Ribena, and if you’ll allow me, let’s go on a journey through my teenage memories, all the way back to Thorpe Park, circa 2007. I’ve been there a handful of times because it’s my nearest ‘good’ theme park, and every time I go I uphold a tradition of getting a photo on the Rumba Rapids. (A boring ride but the photo opp is great for getting all your pals in frame without looking g-force demented.) In 2007, when I was 15, we went on a school trip to Thorpe Park under the broad theme of ‘Physics’. Reader, we learnt not a single thing about physics, but we did have a bloody great day out, although you wouldn’t know it from the Rumba Rapids photo included below. The eyeliner, the fringes, the skinny jeans. If this doesn’t scream private-school-gals-raised-on-Cosmo-Girl, I don’t know what does. (I’m the upside-down one, by the way.)

The reason I share this heritage snapshot with you is because it captures a special moment in time. Crème de cassis is famously one of Poirot’s favourite drinks, so I invite you to embrace your inner detective and observe the logo on the front of the picture, compared with the one on the side of the boat. From 2002 to 2006, Rumba Rapids was sponsored by none other than our friend Ribena, which meant the whole ride was speckled with cartoon blackcurrants in various forms. This photo was taken the year after the sponsorship ended, but it was obviously way too much effort to remove all the Ribena references, which is why it’s still featured on the boat logo.

I know what you’re thinking: Why am I learning about the history of the Rumba Rapids? Well I’m really sorry but you’re reading my Substack, which means you are committed to falling down the same rabbit holes as me, and one of my favourite rabbit holes in the whole world is abandoned places, worn down commercial infrastructure and manmade relics. Chernobyl is the obvious poster child, but I also love ghost malls, faded billboards, abandoned towns, decommissioned railway tracks, empty factories, lost zoos and theme parks - all the weird old places that seem to bubble over with joyful, morbid decay. They give me a tingly feeling akin to seeing a ghost.

And somewhere along the Rumba Rapids river, there is a tunnel that once contained one of these spine-tingling relic things that I can’t describe in words very well. In this very photo, we had just departed the tunnel and seen for ourselves the haunting remnants of a light-up display of plastic Ribena berries. But alas - cut short by the severance of their sponsorship contract, these berries were no longer lit up. Instead, they were forced to live in darkness until somebody could be arsed to remove them. When we entered the tunnel that day, all was black except for the distant flashes of pretend lightning that illuminated - just briefly - the silhouettes of these forgotten blackcurrants. How long did they stay in that tunnel? Where are they now? It’s been nearly twenty years and I still can’t forget.

Back to the here and now, my little glass of blackcurrant liqueur has me thinking about all the things I dream about when I dream about the future. Obviously a healthy, happy family and friends, somewhere warm to live and a functioning body and mind, but aside from those essentials, my future dreams are very much garden-based. More specifically, I dream of owning a small house on a medium-sized piece of land, big enough to grow an orchard, keep chickens, grow vegetables, keep bees and have a really snazzy greenhouse in which I might grow peaches and grapes. Is that too much to ask? IS IT?

I don’t know if it’s the political gloom or climate doom, but self-sufficiency has become my idea of heaven. A future-proofed sanctuary in which I can live with my family and have room for friends. And although we are nowhere close to that point yet, we are fortunate enough to own our current house (with a mortgage, obvs), and the garden has become a little microcosm for me to learn all about growing food in an organic, circular, wildlife-friendly way.

I. Am. Obsessed.

And it goes deeper than just saving a bit of money and reducing our reliance on the supermarket. In Karl Marx’s theory of alienation, he describes how people have become separated and estranged from their work, the wider world and their own selves, mainly as a consequence of the way we have separated workers from the means of production. Instead of a human being having self-determination through their own thoughts and actions, instead of, for example, owning and tending to their own modest plot of land to feed their family, or even contributing to a community plot, most of the means of production are now owned by what Marx called the bourgeoisie - the class of people who seem to be owning more and more of society’s resources by extracting value from their workers.

People become cogs in a machine, working relentlessly to make others rich, without having anything of their own to give them purpose and self-reliance. These days, we have pushed it even further by moving into a rentier economy, where income is derived from ownership and control of assets and resources, leading to a concentration of wealth in the hands of the few, who then lease what they have back to regular people at inflated prices. We don’t own films or music anymore, we pay monthly fees to stream them. Owning a house is becoming more and more difficult, while rent is extortionate. We lease cars instead of owning them, and if we run a small business, we rent space on big online sites like Amazon or Etsy. Even our social media platforms are holding our intellectual property at ransom - if they close tomorrow, our audiences disappear, too.

So in a world where it is increasingly difficult to feel secure, I’m feeling more and more grateful for the ability to grow the food that feeds our family. Is there anything more fulfilling than that? And of course, like most people, the cost of living is really starting to bite, which means it is extra satisfying to grow things for (almost) free. If you’ll allow a moment of vulnerability here, this week we officially changed supermarkets from Tesco to Aldi. Not only that, but we’ve switched from an online shop to a manual one. Like, I’m back shopping in the supermarket for real.

But no, please, hold your tears. We must all be brave in the face of change, and my goodness are there changes ahead for me and my fridge. No more Oatly barista. None of my fave gluten free biscuits. Only one variety of kefir yoghurt. SAD. But push forward we must, and even though we all need supermarkets during the week, there is something about the monotony of the aisles, the excessive plastic and the enigmatic pricing (how can anything be that cheap?) that all just makes me more motivated to find new pathways towards self-sufficiency.

Once upon a time, back in those hazy Rumba Rapids days, life was all about booze and boys. Now I spend my time chitting potatoes and making comfrey fertiliser, and it could not be more thrilling.

March Colouring Print

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Last week I received a cool package in the post - the first translation of my latest book Ebb and Flow: A Guide to Seasonal Living. The German edition is published by Knesebeck and features a salmon pink cover, with the title roughly translated as In Flow with the Seasons. I love it!

If you’ve already picked up a copy of Ebb and Flow (thank you!), you’ll know that within each season, I’ve included a selection of books and films to help you engage with the natural world. Today I thought I’d share five of my favourite fictional books from the Spring Reading List. Let me know if any of these are your favourites, too!

The Woodlanders by Thomas Hardy (1887)
It’s a Hardy novel so at least one person will die tragically, but this is one of my favourites in terms of capturing the Wessex setting in all its leafy, verdant glory. There’s also a man trap in it, if I remember right? Deliciously gruesome.

The Beginning of Spring by Penelope Fitzgerald (1988)
Shortlisted for the Booker Prize, this novel follows a Moscow-born print shop owner whose wife suddenly abandons him and their three children. Lots of undercurrents of impending change, Easter, new life and greenery in the grey.

Bambi: A Life in the Woods by Felix Salten (1923)
As scarring as the Disney film was for everyone, I’m afraid to tell you the book is way worse in terms of brutal mother nature on display. However, it is a really beautiful story and was even banned by the Nazis for being a parable of Jewish persecution.

Mothering Sunday by Graham Swift (2016)
A moving and engrossing novella set on a single day in March 1924. It follows a turning point in an illicit affair between a housemaid and her upper-middle-class lover.

Duncton Wood by William Horwood (1980)
One of my husband’s favourite books, this series is for you if you’re a fan of Redwall or Watership Down. Duncton Wood is an allegorical fantasy about a community of moles (yes, moles) and their quest for freedom and spiritual truth.

If you enjoyed this post…

Stumbled upon these amusing ‘tips’ for writing a novel on the New Yorker

A video about discovering a bag of 90 year old coffee beans from Harrods

Watched this video on the Death of American Capitalism about 10 times

It was my first experience of brain-altering depression. In fact, I feel pretty lucky that I managed to go almost three decades of my life without suffering from any major mental health issues, particularly in this crazy old world. It felt like somebody had hijacked my head like a terrorist hijacking a plane. I went about my day, fully bonded and besotted with my newborn baby, but the world was in complete grayscale, covered in a thick fog. I was plagued with despair all day long, unable to see joy in anything until my lovely midwife told me to speak to a doctor and they immediately prescribed me with a daily 50mg dose of sertraline. By Halloween, the medication had removed the low lows, although it had also removed the high highs, which kinda sucked. More on that later (betcha can’t wait).

Growing up in British society where everything is fine, feelings don’t exist and everyone is semi-repressed, I have made a conscious effort to talk openly about postnatal depression (yes I AM fun at parties). It’s the usual thing - in the early days of parenthood, I met so many other mothers who were struggling but didn’t feel like they could mention it unless I opened up the conversation first. But even in the last five years of going through this stuff, it wasn’t until this week that I heard somebody else use the same language to describe their experience - the fog.

This person was the author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, who recently spoke to Emma Barnett about how she lost her ability to write as soon as she fell pregnant:

‘When I could not write, it was terrifying. And it felt like being shut out from myself. And it’s a really frightening place to be, because writing fiction is the thing that gives me meaning. I wanted to write fiction and I couldn’t, and I just really felt terror. I thought, what if I never write again? I’m not sure if it was entirely physiological, but something changed when I fell pregnant. I couldn’t get back into that magical place where I could write fiction.’

Fun fact: Something does change when you fall pregnant. According to current research, a woman’s brain undergoes more significant structural changes during motherhood than in adolescence. Let’s just soak that in. Remember how turbulent and confusing and emotional your teenage years were? New mothers are going through it all again, just a little bit worse.

Chimamanda then went onto explain how she felt foggy - she couldn’t think as clearly, and thinking clearly, for her, was so important. And I can’t tell you how comforting it was to hear her use these words. You know how people sometimes refer to their depression as a ‘black dog’ that follows them around? It can be a way to identify and contain something that feels otherwise uncontrollable. For me, I used the image of fog to visualise my postnatal depression. It was the best way for me to describe to my husband how my brain was functioning that day. In the late evenings, particularly, the fog would descend completely. It was almost as if it took extra energy to keep the fog lifted, and when I was tired, my brain couldn’t keep it at bay anymore.

Unlike Chimamanda, who wisely seemed to accept her inability to write, I tried to plow through and keep creating, particularly in pregnancy when I was plagued by productivity guilt and felt the need to make the most of my ‘time off’ growing an entire human child. There is a floral pattern I painted in June 2020, just before my due date, which I was determined to finish so that I could send out my latest issue of printed seasonal essays I was writing at the time (you can find digital copies of them all in my Treats library). The pattern was a blue and pink arrangement of dog roses, which I completed, sent out and moved on. But still to this day, when I look at that painting, I am hit with a wave of nauseous revulsion. My brain did not want to create anything, and although I managed to force my way through it, the process was - at risk of sounding melodramatic - mildly traumatic. I don’t even want to share the pattern here because I genuinely hate looking at it.

One of the worst things about my form of PND was how logically inescapable it felt. I am generally quite an optimistic person, as well as a problem solver and a self-improver. If there is an issue in my life, I will work towards sorting it out in some way, even if it isn’t a black-and-white, easy fix. But not only was I feeling absolute despair at everything (at my worst I couldn’t stop thinking about how everyone on earth was going to die - such fun), there was absolutely no reasoning myself out of it. Nothing I could think or say to myself would make me feel better. And at some points, I got so fed up at feeling sad that I ended up feeling angry instead - and it was quite nice. I was so irritated at all the pointless wallowing, I tried instead to direct those feelings towards something with a bit more punch and pizazz. Why was I so unlucky to be affected like this? Why were other women allowed to enjoy motherhood without all this crap? Why were my hormones so ridiculously unreasonable?

I was, and still am, furious at nobody. But of course, I wouldn’t have changed anything. I would go through the whole process a thousand times to have my two babies, because they are (obviously) the greatest human beings to ever grace the earth. Fortunately, I was wise enough to dose up on sertraline as soon as I fell pregnant with my son, Ash, who was born in 2023, so I could skip over the existential dread and get straight to the good stuff.

I knew from very early on that there was something super powerful about my hormones, but it wasn’t until I talked to my doctor a couple of months ago that I started to piece together a theory - not based on any medical experience, but on my own gut feeling and relationship to my body. For one thing, I breastfed both of my children until they were two years old, which I loved. One of the side effects of breastfeeding is that your periods can take a while to come back after giving birth, but for most people this is usually a few months. Mine took the full two years to come back after having Ash, which would have been fine except for the fact that I know my brain would not return to ‘normal’ until I no longer had any postnatal hormones flushing through my system. So although I wanted to continue breastfeeding for two years, I was also really looking forward to feeling myself again once my periods returned.

I spoke to my doctor about this, and she reckons I have very high levels of prolactin, which is the calming hormone that regulates breast milk and also helps chickens lay eggs. On the positive side, this is probably why I’ve found breastfeeding and co-sleeping so enjoyable, but on the downside, it has not only suppressed my menstrual cycle, but has also lead to me experiencing a really weird condition called Dysphoric Milk Ejection Reflex (or D-MER for short). I’ve actually taken part in a study about this because, like a lot of women’s health issues, it is completely under-studied and very few people have heard of it.

Essentially, it meant that in the first year or so of breastfeeding each of my kids, I felt a massive dip of despair for around ten seconds every time they started a feeding session. One of the theories around this is that as prolactin levels rise to encourage milk flow, it suppresses oxytocin, a hormone that helps us feel happy, secure and loved. If my prolactin levels are higher than normal, it would make sense that my oxytocin was suppressed harder, leading to these strange moments of dysphoria. I only discovered it had a name when I was Googling the effects, and as expected, it was incredibly reassuring to know I wasn’t the only one to experience it.

With time and medication, postnatal depression has become something entirely manageable in terms of my day to day life. But as I mentioned earlier, although the sertraline took away the low lows, it flattened my mood at the high end, too. I have missed feeling little moments of euphoria and delight at simple things. And I have also missed my real creative brain, which has been on the worst rollercoaster ever. Yes, I’ve managed to write books and get things done over the last five years, but the process has become ten times harder, like wading through treacle every time I have a task to complete. I’ve lost a lot of confidence in my work, and often struggle to see the value in what I do, or understand why people would want to read my writing. C’est tragique! And having always been a very ambitious and self-motivated person, I’ve felt myself losing sight of all the things I love doing. As a result, I’ve been inconsistent and unsure in what I’ve produced over the last few years, particularly in places like Substack, where writers have to guide their own path.

The good news is that with my hormones and sertraline both waning in power, I am very slowly, veeeeery carefully beginning to feel like myself again. I’m not quite at the level of Gordon Gecko taking on Wall Street with his filofax, but I am beginning to have the clarity of thought that Chimamanda spoke about in her interview. I still get the fog now and then, particularly if I haven’t had much sleep. Last night I was trying to brainstorm ideas in the bath, saw it was past eight o’clock and, like the tide suddenly turning, recognised that it was time to avoid getting lost in the fog by opting to get lost in a book, instead. (I am currently obsessed with the Dr Ruth Galloway archaeological mystery series by Elly Griffiths, chef’s kiss.) I am living with my fog, and day by day, she is diminishing.

I remember being in the depths of despair and feeling like there was absolutely no way I would ever feel happy again. I couldn’t imagine seeing the world in technicolor. But here I am! Battered, bruised and kind of anxious these days, but I think I’m out the other side of the best and worst five years of my life.

The sun shines! I’m off to sit in the garden.

If you liked this post…

• You can listen to Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s interview with on BBC iPlayer

• You can find out more about Dysphoric Milk Ejection Reflex on La Leche League International

• Find information and support for postnatal depression and perinatal mental health on Mind

I’ve become so fascinated in American history and culture over the last few years, I actually looked into doing a Masters degree in American Studies before realising I have neither time nor money to pursue such an indulgence. Fortunately, books are a much cheaper way to learn, and one of the best I’ve read on the subject in recent years is The Unwinding: Thirty Years of American Decline by George Packer, which explores the widening gap between rich and poor in the US, written so compellingly that it almost feels like a novel instead of a non-fiction book. Around the same time I read it, I also became obsessed with the history of the Beach Boys, counterculture and Californian identity, and I am forever finding new rabbit holes to fall down, including my latest Substack piece on American Exceptionalism.

For better or worse, America only seems to be getting more and more fascinating, which is why I thought it would be fun to start a little film project exploring every state in the US through the art of cinema. For each state, I’m going to choose a film that tries to capture the essence of that place, although my views will, of course, be very much those of an outsider looking in. How are these places represented on film? And how is the diversity of its people, history and culture encapsulated in a single story?

To begin, I’ve chosen the ‘sunshine state’ of Florida and the 2017 drama The Florida Project directed by Sean Baker.

The film is named after the nearby imagined utopia of the Walt Disney World resort, which was code-named ‘The Florida Project’ during its initial planning stages in the 1960s. A slice-of-life-style plot, it follows the adventures of a six-year-old girl called Moonee as she spends the summer with her friends, playing around the budget motel she lives in with her unemployed single mother.

Their struggle to make ends meet and stave off homelessness is set against the backdrop of the Magic Castle motel, painted in surreal pastel colours, as well as the wider landscape of Route 192, Kissimmee and the Disney resort that is always on the periphery of their difficult existence.

Brooklynn Kimberly Prince is Moonee, Willem Dafoe plays the motel manager, and Lithuanian-born Bria Vinaite was cast in her debut role as Moonee’s mother, Halley.

The Wes Anderson-style colour scheme of bright yellows, pastels and purples does not totally detract from the harsh realities of Moonee’s daily existence, but at the same time, we are invited to see the world through the eyes of the innocent, with a child like wonder at everything they encounter on their long, drawn out days enjoying their freedom to roam - a freedom, ironically, that children more privileged than these rarely get to enjoy within our hyper-secure society.

It is difficult to believe these kids were given any scripted lines at all, their behaviour and dialogue is so naturalised. The roaming, open-endedness of their daily adventures, the stories they tell each other and humorous observations of the adult world, all help transform an otherwise bleak film into something dusted with childhood magic.

The real-life setting of the film also sent me down numerous Wikipedia rabbit holes themed around ‘novelty architecture’. We watch the kids traipsing past Eli’s Orange World, a large, orange-shaped fruit stand, and the Giant Wizard gift shop, complete with a terrifying wizard’s head. Even the purple motel they call home is a real place you can book into, all located on this slightly depressing stretch of highway on the way to Disney World.

Fun fact: In 2004, gusts of wind from Hurricane Charley damaged the front of the Giant Wizard gift shop, causing a large decoy crystal ball to dislodge from the display and hit the roof of Orange World, leaving a dent in the structure. The crystal ball was never found.

When we hear ‘the most magical place on earth’, most of us think of fireworks over Cinderella’s castle. Unless we’ve explored the outer orbit of Disney World, the wide highways and budget motels inhabited by the poorest members of American society, we don’t think of these places in relation to the Magic Kingdom. This film takes the age-old concept of inequality and brings it into full technicolor - for what could represent the decline of the American Dream better than a budget motel painted to look like a fairy castle?

At the end of the film, Moonee and her friend Jancey get as close as they can to the Magic Kingdom in what is actually one of the strangest scenes, mainly because apparently the director couldn’t get the permission he needed to record inside the park, so he had to film in secret. Although I wasn’t entirely convinced by the final scene, it wrapped the film up with something akin to a happy ending, as long as you didn’t allow yourself to think too far into the fictional future of Moonee’s life.

I’ll end with this photograph of me having my own Florida adventure at the age of five, when my family and I were lucky enough to visit Disney World and the Kennedy Space Centre (where this photo was taken). I think those beads around my neck were from the Easter parade - and I still have that KSC ticket stub to this day!

Six more films based in Florida

Apollo 13 (1995)
Docudrama about the aborted 1970 lunar mission, after an on-board explosion deprives the spacecraft of oxygen and electricity. Set in part at NASA’s Kennedy Space Centre.

The Birdcage (1996)
Comedy starring Robin Williams and Nathan Lane as a gay couple who have to pretend they are straight in order to impress the conservative family of their son's fiancee.

Body Heat (1981)
During an extreme heatwave, a beautiful Florida woman and a seedy lawyer engage in an affair while plotting the murder of her rich husband.

Miami Blues (1990)
After a man is released from prison, he plans on starting a new life in Miami, but when he goes on a crime spree and kills a man in the airport, he flees the scene.

Moonlight (2016)
Chiron, a young African-American boy, finds guidance in Juan, a drug dealer, who teaches him to carve his own path. As he grows up in Miami, Juan's advice leaves a lasting impression on him.

Scarface (1983)
Tony Montana and his close friend Manny, build a strong drug empire in Miami. But as his power begins to grow, so does his ego and his enemies, and his own paranoia begins to plague his empire.

They also make wonderful wedding favours and decorations, strung in rows along walls and over dance floors. Experiment with random markings or try recreating constellations, words, flowers, leaves and patterns. The instructions below are for a ‘naked’ lantern, but you could also use two coats of acrylic paint to add extra detail and colour, such as the aurora borealis or a glowing sunset. You can also use a citronella candle in the lantern, made with the oil of the lemongrass plant, to humanely keep insects at bay.

If you love crafting and connecting with the seasons, you might enjoy my newest book! Ebb and Flow: A Guide to Seasonal Living is an illustrated homage to tuning into the rhythms of nature. Seasonal living is not just a hobby - it really has become a way of life for me, and something I commit to more and more with every passing year. Noticing the wildflowers blossoming, growing pumpkins in my garden, cooking with seasonal food, embracing the lighter and darker halves of the year. It all helps me reconcile so many complexities of modern life by reflecting on three questions: What would my animal self do in this situation? What is the natural, instinctive path forward here? And how have our consumerist, way-too-busy lifestyles led us astray from a simpler way of being?

If you liked this post…

• If you’re looking for the perfect Easter craft, this free bunny plush pattern on Gathered is adorbs

• The first episode of the 90s Moomin show is all about the Moomins waking up for spring and discovering a mysterious magical hat

• A great piece on BBC News today about all the ways you can fight climate change in your home

Throughout history, global proponents of American exceptionalism have believed that the US has a unique mission to transform the world, based on some or all of the core principles of the American Revolution: Liberty, individualism, republicanism, democracy, meritocracy and laissez-faire economics. Above all, it was the idea of the ‘Great American Experiment’ that shaped the exceptionalism idea; the United States’ venture into self-government and democracy, breaking away from powerful British rule in the 18th century and creating their own constitution to guarantee the rights of all its citizens. In the words of the Declaration of Independence:

A blank slate, forward vision, good values and hard work add up to a great experiment indeed, and one definitely worth pursuing. But the question is, at what point do you conclude that the experiment has failed?

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Purple Sprouting Broccoli
An early spring delicacy topped with woolly florets, just the thing to cure those late winter blues. With the exception of the really tough parts of the stalks, every part of this crop is edible. Try it with complimentary flavours like sesame, lemon, orange or hazelnut.

Eat: February - May
Cook: Roast purple sprouting broccoli with smashed white beans
Read: The short story Broccoli by Russian-American writer Lara Vapnyar, first published in The New Yorker in January 2004.

Asparagus
With its sweet, earthy flavour, asparagus is one of my all-time favourite vegetables, perhaps the more precious for its short season in the UK, which traditionally runs from St George’s Day (21 April) to the Summer Solstice (21 June). Best lightly pan-fried in butter and garlic. Omg.

Eat: April - June
Cook: Asparagus, goat cheese and tarragon tart
Watch: This all-American video of a dance troupe from the 1982 National Asparagus Festival in Michigan.

Forced Rhubarb
According to legend, the first forced rhubarb was grown by accident in London’s Chelsea Physic Garden, when the plants were mistakenly covered over winter. As a result, the stalks were hot pink and shot up earlier than normal. I know rhubarb is a bit hit-or-miss, but I love combining them in pudding recipes with flavours of ginger and vanilla.

Eat: January - March
Cook: Rhubarb frangipane cake
Listen: This Atlas Obscura podcast on the dark underbelly of the Yorkshire Rhubarb Triangle.

Nettle
Super healthy, abundant and versatile, nettles can be added to any dish in place of spinach or spring greens. I’ve also made it into beer which worked surprisingly well (as long as you drink it ice cold). If you’re unsure where to start, add a few young leaves to curries, hotpots and stews.

Eat: February - April
Cook: Nettle soup
Watch: The Nettle Dress film, which follows textile artist Allan Brown as he grieves the loss of his wife, while spinning and weaving a dress over seven years made entirely from nettle fibres.

Wild Garlic
Also known as ramsons, from the Old English word hramsa, meaning ‘garlic’. Wild garlic likes growing in ancient, deciduous woodland - particularly on chalky soils like the South Downs, where I live. Start with pesto or butter and embrace having bad breath for two months of the year (it’s worth it).

Eat: February - April
Cook: Wild garlic bread
Read: The poem Wild Garlic by Irish poet and critic Seán Hewitt.

If you enjoyed this post…

My Concise Foraging Guide (Bloomsbury, 2021) is the perfect pocket companion for finding wild food this spring! It includes 194 edible fruits, nuts and seeds, flowers, greens and vegetables, herbs, roots, whole plants, fungi, seaweeds and shellfish that you can forage in the UK and Europe.

It all began in 2018, when I deleted all three of my social media accounts. Not just the apps, and not just deactivation. I downloaded all my data, then permanently deleted my Facebook, then Twitter, and finally Instagram. I had listened to people like Jaron Lanier and Cal Newport, and as a millennial I could still remember what it was like to live without this kind of addictive technology. We didn’t have internet until I was in my late teens, and even with MySpace and MSN, the intensity of use was nothing compared to what the internet has since become for young people. By 2018, ten years after I got my first iPhone, I knew that I was addicted to social media. And I bloody hated it.

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February Colouring Print

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In January, I finally sent off two of my children’s picture book ideas to literary agents with the hope of finding representation in 2025. While I wait to (hopefully) hear back, I thought I’d share five of the stories from my own childhood that have stayed with me for the last thirty years or so, and influenced the way I write, draw and create visual stories. Some of these are television series as well as books, because as I’m sure we can all agree, nineties kids’ TV was pretty much an art form of its own.

The Animals of Farthing Wood
(TV series and book by Colin Dann)

This TV series left a particularly permanent mark on me. I was outraged at the injustice of Farthing Wood’s destruction, but I also loved the ecological relationships between the animals and the fact that it didn’t shy away from the brutality of life and death. The illustration style of the series, with its crisp outlines against natural, painterly backdrops, has definitely influenced my own style.

Where’s Wally?
(TV series and books by Martin Handford)

My favourite Wimmelbilderbuch (German for ‘teeming picture book’) of all time, we also had the TV show of Where’s Wally? on VHS, and it was my go-to video to watch if I was ever off sick from school. I remember curling up on the sofa with my duvet and our golden retriever Murphy, awash with the contentment of watching something so familiar and cosy.

Puzzle Island
(Book by Paul Adshead)

This book was a classroom favourite at primary school. It is the most beautiful, absorbing and clever puzzle book that tells an overarching story full of visual and linguistic clues. There are four animals hidden in every picture, riddles in the text, and even a final puzzle to solve on the front cover. The illustrations are also lovely and, like Where’s Wally?, full of busy little details.

Noah’s Island
(TV series by Elphin Lloyd-Jones)

If you were to ask me my favourite childhood TV show, this would be it. Noah’s Island was kind of like a weird ecological spin-off of the Noah’s Ark story, in which a group of animals find sanctuary on a floating island, and learn to live together in harmony for the survival of all. Basically a utopian society full of compassion and pragmatism, complete with a polar bear, defrosted mammoths, and a Russian desman called Sacha. Oisky poisky!

Watership Down
(Film and book by Richard Adams)

The first book to ever make me cry, and the most notoriously savage ‘kid-friendly’ film from 1978 that traumatised entire generations with its graphic depictions of rabbits being maimed and killed. But again, there was so much power in the fact that this story didn’t shy away from the realities of the natural world, including the peace that accompanies death. In the film, I particularly love the minimal, folkloric design of the Black Rabbit of Inlé.

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Fellow nineties kids, I’ve got my eye on this book by Chuck Klosterman

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Dive into The 90s Museum UK on Insta