Rohan Anderson's Blog, page 12

eating comfort

As I tucked into dinner I couldn’t help but ponder what lay in front of me. It was in effect, more than just a meal. It was a culmination of experiences and tasks. My life’s ambitions displayed inanimate on a plate. Sweet aromas taunting me with familiar flavours. I’m comforted by meals like this. They’re a creation, my creation. Years have gone into that meal.

There was a time when I’d never grown zucchini, never grown squash, never made paella, never killed a home raised chicken. I’ve had to learn so much, and excuse the cliche, but I’ve been on a journey. One that’s been niggling at me for years, as far back as I can remember. A dream to have a little shack hidden away from the madness, deep in the bush. A place where I’d be able to put in place the veg growing example my mother had set, to raise my own stock, and to hunt and fish for tucker. Basically, to live simple is my dream, to appreciate the little and to admire the spectacle of nature.

I’ve had these tendencies since I was a kid. My time on the farm did me in good, real good. I got the bug, the dream was embedded in my soul and I have no hope of shaking it. Instead of having a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other, I had a wild man on both. With a face full of beard, a wide brim hat and a checked flannel shirt, this guy has been guiding me for a long time. If you look at photos of me as a kid you can see this man. When I was a kid I embraced him, and I felt like that wild man, wearing my Dads old wide-brim scout masters hat, a flannel shirt, boots and dirty jeans, fishing the small river that bordered our allotment. How then, in my twenties did i get lost in the city? How did I end up in the corporate game, sitting at a desk trying my darndest to outdo the bloke in the cubicle next to me. I was driven to work for wealth, getting lost in that ugly complex game many of us are familiar with. I can answer with what a truth, that I am ashamed by. What was I searching for? Well it was the lure of wanting to feel special. Almost wanting to feel like I was somehow more important than the less affluent, because, well….I’d worked damn hard for it. My twenties were my failing in many ways but also my teaching ground. It’s where I learnt who I didn’t want to be. As I type this, I feel embarrassed to admit such things, the truth does actually hurt. I’m no longer that person, I’ve changed. Thankfully embracing change is an innate trait for us beasts. We’re programmed to adapt.

And this is why I ended up starring at my meal. A meal that represents change. It also represents resourcefulness, a willingness to work with what is around. To be frugal with food, if you will. I don’t understand when people call me a foodie blogger, or categorise me as a ‘foodie’. Sure I like food, but there is slightly more to it then just a combination of flavour, aroma and presentation. There is culture, history, tradition and for some people around the world it’s far more important than these facets of what we consider food to be. For many people, it’s desperation on a plate. It’s literally about survival, eating to live another day. So when I have left overs, I treasure them. A leftover bowl of home raised chicken paella, cooked in the sweet broth of summer vegetables represent high value. More value than any of the thousands of dollars I earned in my previous life. It’s nourishing for life.

When my garden has food in excess, as it does now in early autumn, I become more aware that the food in glut either needs to be eaten now, and if thats not possible, then it needs to be preserved. In this case, my basket was full of delicious overgrown squash that, lately I’ve been roasting with lemon and rosemary (that is after I’ve scooped out the seeds and stored them for next years squash).

My cooking tends to be dictated by what I have at hand. This occasion, my over grown squash and leftover chicken paella had little choice but came together to form dinner. I love this type of food. It’s stuff that really does make you happy. It doesn’t look amazing, but it tastes pretty rad. And it took me years of effort to make. I suppose it’s what makes it taste good.

Workshops now open

There’s been a great amount of work behind the scenes, but now finally I can happily tell you that the workshops (yes I’ve been talking about them for some time) are now open! It’s been akin to establishing a new boarding school! We’ve had to find a suitable location not only to run the workshops but to provide accommodation and we’ve found that place just down the road!

Finally I’ve set out a program that covers most skills, although there is one main skill that will have to wait for the summer workshops, and that is preserving with fruit and veg. However, most other topics that you’ve asked for will be covered, but obviously not all in one weekend. I’ve spread out options so you can get a few skills taught over a workshop. It’s taken me years to learn these skills, I couldn’t possibly do you any justice trying to jam it all into one weekend!

Some of the skills on offer will be confronting, some will challenge you emotionally as a human, as an eater. For these I have provided you with the option to have a true hands on experience. You can either watch and learn or you can learn by doing. It’s up to you.

Some topics, like wild mushroom foraging will test your character, especially if you’ve only ever eaten supermarket food. Eating wild food and trusting that wild meat and foraged items are ok to eat took me a while to get used to. But with the right knowledge and safe approach to identification and assessment you will be ok. And I’ll be there to hold your hand… figuratively not literally (that’s an extra fee)

There is a fee, which covers rad accommodation, both fancy B&B or ‘glamping’ in the stables. It is a learning course, so you pay for knowledge, and you get fed with food I’ll cook for you. I expect help with the dishes though!

The workshops will very much be a communal event of like minded people, so if you’re a redneck don’t apply. This is for people that want to learn skills that will help make a positive change to their food acquisition while also settling some ethical dilemmas for those of us that are meat eaters.

The aim of the workshops if for me to share skills for simpler living. You in turn will share some skills with others. If the process continues we have a possibility to make a positive change to how we view food, how we respect food and what impact we have on the environment by living closer towards semi-self sufficiency.

Go and have a look!

I’m a sour man

It’s a smell that not only fills the kitchen but it seems to penetrate the soul. It’s the sweet aroma of bread baking in the oven. Even more spectacular is the smell of hot bread when the hot door of the oven is eagerly opened, it’s something that reminds me of childhood when times appeared simpler.

Every few days I knead out a loaf, sometimes I’m busy and I’ll buy bread. But it’s brings me no joy, in fact I’m often quite robotic when I buy bread someone else has made. “It’s been a busy few days… we need to buy bread”. There is always seems to be a justification for convenience. The bread I prefer to buy is a either a batard sourdough loaf, or a light rye from a lovely French patisserie, both are delicious breads but I’ve chosen a life with minimal money so I have to stand by my choice, i.e. I need to knead my own bread.

The sponge….

Sourdough has been a mystery for me for many years. I’ve been using a basic recipe of flour, water and dry yeast. It makes a pretty standard loaf but it’s nothing worth writing home to mum about. My curiosity eventually got the better of me and after a few late night sessions flicking through bread books I decided to make my own sourdough. Another learning adventure, continuing the process of becoming even more independent, semi self sufficient to be more precise.

Sourdough makes use of wild yeast which is everywhere around us, it’s just a matter of capturing them and making a home for them in a broth of flour and water. I had some almost success starters, then I’d forget to feed them just as they’d ripen, lose interest and go back to baking with store bought dry yeast. The last month however the stars have aligned and a starter is now very much alive and is the sole basis of my new adventures in bread making.

Now it may seem like a simple thing to be so excited about and worth writing about, but for a bloke like me, this is very exciting. It’s one step closer to my dream. All I need to buy now is flour. Thats it. I don’t know how dried yeast is made, but I know how my starter was made and thats comforting.

A few things I’ve learned on the way. Organic rye seems to make the best starter culture, then I feed it with a biodynamic organic flour every day. I found the processed flour horrible for the starter. Maybe the pesticides used on the wheat, killed the food for the living yeast to feed on, I’m no expert in this field. I’ve also discovered that every starter is different. My mum has been on the same sourdough journey and we’ve been comparing results. She made her starter with organic yoghurt and has a different loaf as a result. Making sourdough takes commitment. You have to make whats called a ‘sponge’ the night before you knead the loaf, and you need to look after the starter like it’s a pet. It needs monitoring, feeding, watering and love. Well not so much love, but it’s nice to say g’day to it when you’re breathing in that yeasty beer smell first thing in the morning!

The most enjoyable thing about the whole process has been learning by experimenting. I got the basics from books and then went and just played around until I got the results I wanted. I’m adding sourdough bread making to the workshops I’ll be running over winter, so keep a look out for details soon, if you’re interested. I’ll share everything I’ve learnt and set you on your way to bread independence.

nesting

Rain in summer is always welcome, especially when there’s been a dry spell, of which we’ve endured for the last few months. When I say we, I’m really referring to the vegetables, at times they’ve struggled. No matter how much bore water goes on a plant it still won’t grow as well as it will after a good soak from above, it’s like they know. We can’t trick nature, she’s onto us.

The clouds emptied last night just as the light dropped over the western skyline. The sound of rain on the tin roof no doubt helping the kids drift off to sleep, well it sure helps me doze off. The morning sky was all low cloud, humid as hell, like the tropics had arrived. As I drove into town visibility was poor in parts, but it sure makes the daily forest drive just that much more spectacular, and that smell of the bush after a good drop from Huey. You just have to be there to experience it. I finished my errands in town and headed out to the new place we’ll be calling home in a few months time. It’s been on my mind to get that fence up for the new veg patch, to keep both the sheep and the rabbits out, the latter seems to be in plague proportions up at the new place. I guess I’ll have plenty of meat for the pot and the dogs dinner.

As the old jeep rattled up the drive, the wipers clearing away the thick mist I felt the autumnal weather sneak in as the door opened. I opened the old doors to the shed (which happens to be loaded with old farming treasure) and grabbed all the fencing gear I’d dropped of earlier in the week.

I set to work wiring up one side of the enclosure, the finishing work after the fencing contractor had installed the posts and gates. It’s been a few years since I used to do this fencing work as part of my daily job, many years ago in fact. It didn’t take long to get back in the swing of things, and after a few hours I had the beginnings of a fence, and a few wire cuts to remind me that I’m far from a pro.

In the next few weeks I’ll get the remaining wire up, next will be the galvanised chicken wire to keep the furry beasts away from my vegetables. With the fence finally up and hopefully vermin proof I’ll get behind a large hoe and turn the rich chocolate soil over and make my beds. Then finally I get to plant some winter veg. It’s one of the challenges of living off the food you grow in your backyard. You can’t muck around, you need to be aware of the impending seasons. Before long autumn will have come and gone, and if I don’t get the veg in now and give it a chance to establish then I’ve no hope of things growing during our desperately cold winter.

Winter gardens are just as important as the highly productive summer garden. Sure the variety is not as good, but it’s not just the food that grows in the garden over winter thats important. More importantly is to grow green much and nitrogen fixing legumes to prepare the soil for the warm season. It’s part of the annual cycle.

Kate took the jeep back home, so when I’d finished my fencing work I walked home. Over the hills, covered in mist. The normal vista blocked by low cloud reminiscent of a winters day, but I didn’t mind it set a nice mood. At the top of the hill I noticed something sitting in the middle of the road. As I drew near it was clear it was a beautifully crafted birds next, most likely blown out of the tree from last nights strong winds. I picked it up and examined the craft. What a clever bird to have made this home for it’s family, of such fine construction from an animal that can only use it’s beak to build. As I continued home I thought of my own recent efforts working on the fence. Which is really just my nest, my families nest. It’s just bits of things formed in some sort of order that provide us with shelter and food. We are just animals, but unlike the clever bird we rely on more unnatural things for ours nests. One day I’d like to build a nest thats as in tune with nature and purpose built as that humble pile of weaved sticks.

can’t want for much more than this

The kitchen is hot, it’s not just the gas hob burning away, it’s burning hot outside and this old shack is in a poorly state. A cool change is on the way, but it couldn’t come fast enough, sweat beads on my forehead as I work the peeler and core the pears. It’s the height of summer, when nature turns into hyper productivity, it’s the time of plenty, especially for those people that rely heavily on tended gardens for future food provisions. Each year there is a month or two when so much produce abounds it’s time to enter preservation month. The kitchen is often occupied as the main room, as vegetables are cleaned and sliced, fruit is peeled and stewed and meals are cooked consisting of the years freshest bounty, a variety of food unseen elsewhere on the calendar.

This is the life I’ve embraced over the years. It’s the seasonal life, and right now everything beautiful about backyard produce surrounds me in excess. Our recent fruit acquisition was quite the haul, we can’t eat it all now so it’s important to capture that glut for winter. First up was the plums, of which I made into two large bottles of Worcestershire sauce for fresh eggs cooked most mornings, I guess it would also partner well with the odd kangaroo steak. Next up were the Chojuro early pears, a small Japanese variety that were peeled and stuffed into precious Fowler preserving jars. A very light syrup now covers the fruit as they store for us to enjoy on pancakes, in baking and as snacks over the lean, challenging months of winter. In a nutshell thats what this time of year is all about really… harnessing summer, that miracle of photosynthesis gone mad which produces food, plenty of food.

As we bottled and boiled our fruit, the vegetables in the backyard where getting a nice drink from my sprinkler system, and growing like mad while I wasn’t watching. The beans have long since flowered and now bear small pods that will plump up and subsequently dry out on the vine, to be stored and rehydrated for winter stews. The pumpkin has legs like Elle McPherson and busting fruit to match. This beautiful fruit will stay outside until the first frosts of Autumn, when the leaves wither and die, but the fruit remains, bright orange and yellow beacons in the grass, a food source that keeps us well until spring.

With each warm day the tomatoes continue to ripen, and when the summer is done we will preserve a few hundred kilograms on passata day, as passata is the basis of much of my winter cooking. The zucchini grows when your sleeping and the large fruit that’s not eaten during the week ends up in various forms of relish and chutney, which complement man size hot toasted sandwiches for those cold days working outside.

Nature does her own job of preserving, with root vegetables lapping up the warmth of summer to be stored under ground for us to pluck out in winter. Carrots, parsnips and potatoes thrive now, only to be eaten later. All in all it’s a beautiful system. A time honoured approach to surviving with very little. It’s a busy lifestyle, one in which I’m often plum tuckered by early evening, but I sleep well these days. Well rested, I wake each morning with chores on my mind, a well fed body and a recharged spirit.

As I fill the last jar with sweet summer pears I ponder for a second. Why do all this work when I could buy it? Well the truth is I don’t like money. I’m not good with it. Thats why I’d rather work for my food. I know I’ll never be a rich man, I’ll never own anything of great expense, but I have everything I need, I don’t want for much more than this. I have pears in a jar.

PS. Hipsters take note. Please stop using preserving jars for tea-light candle holders and vases. It’s pushing up the price of jars for us people that use them for their intended purpose.

cash? no thanks I’ll take the fruit

A swim at the lake after school was a good call. The day had been busy and the heat relentless. I walked straight into the water, clothes and all. I figured being covered in wet clothes would be quite comfortable for what lay ahead. We headed to the orchard with empty baskets in the back of the jeep, anticipation of the bounty hanging from the trees. The sun was still hot, the air dry. As we pulled into the drive I looked over to the trees, fruit everywhere. This would be a rather productive evening.

About eight years ago I was down on my luck. I’d been out of work a while, actually I’d been made redundant as a result of unfortunate workplace politics. In a way it was a good thing, hindsight’s a wonderful thing. Three months I sat idle. I struggled on many levels, the usual stuff. Not working was something I wasn’t used to. I loved to work and this time off was the pits. More so because of the way in which I’d wound up unemployed. But thats another story, one of which I’m happy to leave hidden away never to be thought of again. The upside of the story is that this bloke called Pete took a chance on me and gave me a job, even after I was late for the interview. He was my boss for many years, more importantly he was also my confidant, my friend and at times my spiritual sounding board. The man’s deeply religious, an admirable quality in a man, that is they live by way of their beliefs. I don’t mind JC’s story, in fact I think it’s probably one of the best messages out there. The simplistic and sensible message of love one another as you would liked to be loved, wow, what sense.

Pete, however, is a man true to his beliefs and is a wonderful human. A rarity. A one off. So when he asked for some labour help with laying a concrete slab for a new garden shed, there was zero hesitation. The slab was laid a few weeks ago now, it’s dry and a permanent mark of our work, but more importantly a stable floor for Pete’s new garden shed, that we are yet to erect.

Late last year, just before we parted ways as work colleagues, I’d suggested to Pete that I’d have a bit more time on my hands and offered my services for odd jobs and such. In lieu of cash payment the concept was that I preferred to be paid in fruit, as I sadly lack an orchard as impressive as his. When I say impressive, I mean this place is a paradise. It’s been a labour of love for Pete, who seems to be constantly adding to it. Each summer I’ve walked those tunnels under the fruit trees, that have often bulged under the weight of rare variety fruits. No supermarket regulars will you spot here, variety is the name of the game. And not just for the sake of it, no. The range of varieties allows Pete and his family to enjoy the long season of fruit as different varieties will ripen at varying times, spring to summer and into autumn. Pete tells me he’s even discovered an apple that takes so long to ripen that he had still had fruit still on the tree in early spring. Amazing!

For me, as a renter again I miss not having my own fruit trees. In fact it’s been years since I’ve had a productive bunch of trees of my own. One day if I’m lucky enough to be able to buy a few acres I’ll plant the majority of it in food bearing trees, shrubs, climbers and creepers leaving only an acre or two for livestock. Why? Well it’s practical. I don’t have to kill anything with food plants and there is minimal cost in feeding them. But for now, when Pete needs me around I’m happy to work for fruit.

stuff up for grabs

I’ve been hauled up in bed this afternoon, my back has finally set me straight… rest damn you! I hate resting. Actually allow me to rephrase that, I despise being idle. And laying on my back for half a day is just a plain waste of time, but after weeks of serious pain I’ve finally decided to let my body tell me what it needs. Chronic back pain is physically exhausting too, and most days I’m tired in the afternoon, maybe that’s why the siesta was invented, for people with shagged backs!!

So laying here in bed I decided to be some what practical and posted a whole heap of stuff on eBay. A few months ago we had a market stall and sold a lot of stuff we figured we no longer needed, as part of our philosophy of living with less stuff. But this is stuff that I once needed, or things I have two of. When I sell stuff on eBay I can’t help myself and have a little fun with the descriptions. People on eBay are so serious so I like to add a little pepper to their day. Talking of pepper… check out the neat Parkers Nuts S&P shakers for sale. It’s hard parting with some stuff, like my very first camera and old loved knives and camping gear. But someone else surely can get more use out of them rather than them sitting on a shelf at my place.

My eBay page is here. I’ve listed a bunch of stuff, I need to money to pay my Chiropractor for my back treatment!!!

humble summer broccoli & garlic pasta

I used to think of broccoli as an end of winter veg, but in fact it’s something that grows well into summer and is still very much in season for us now. It’s one of those vegetables that I tend to use in the same dishes over and over again, just because they’re easy and the kids love them. Kate makes the best broccoli fritters that are a huge winner and I like to make a simple pasta sauce.

For those people enjoying the WLL veg boxes we delivered last week, I thought I’d share my ‘go to easy as pie’ recipe (but it’s not pie, its pasta).

Stuff you need:

Two bunches of fresh broccoli (chop the florets off and chop fine)

300g pasta

1 egg

2 x tbsp pouring cream

1 cup grated peccorino

olive oil

6 garlic coves diced

Small handful of garlic chives (chopped)

S&P

 

Cook the pasta in salted boiling water, a few minutes before it reaches al dente through in the broccoli.

While the broccoli and pasta is boiling, fry the chopped garlic in olive oil in a fry pan. When cooked to your liking set aside (for this dish I like mine brown like chips, as they give a nice punch of flavour)

When the pasta is cooked, drain and return to the pot, allow a little of the water to remain. Allow the steaming pasta to cool down a little, maybe a minute or two, then add the whole egg, peccorino, cream and fried garlic and stir well.

 

Show a little pasta lovin’ with olive oil, grate over some peccorino and garnish with fresh garlic chives.

 

Veg boxes are open for order this week, we’d love to get final numbers before Wed’s worst case Thursday so we give the farmer enough time to pick them on the Friday. I hope you’re all enjoying the produce box!

 

PS. We have set up some sensible terms and conditions for veg box orders. Check them out on the site here.

the real food is here

It was 5:00am on a Saturday morning when we started our work. First we had to get our four little girls up, fed and dressed ready for the big day. All our orders had been finalised and it was now just a matter of getting the fresh picked produce down to the city.

 



 

It’s something that I’ve thought about doing for a while now, I guess it’s been on the back burner because I’ve been busy, but there comes a time where you must put into action the beliefs you so ardently promote.

 

 

We all have a choice and in regards to food, the thing we all can’t live without, we have a choice to eat with a conscience. It’s important to me, it’s important to a lot of folk out there. Some of us want to make a positive change, and although a small number of us make up the population, the important element is, we exist.

 

Before my time there were places called grocery stores and fruit and veg shops. They were owned by families, and they sold seasonal fresh produce that was grown not too far away (as refrigeration and more importantly refrigerated transport was not invented). That was a long time ago. Now food is transported from all over the world to our local supermarket to give us what we ‘want’. We shop for food in order of the meals we want to eat, instead of what is available and grown locally in season. This approach is current but it may be a thing of the past. As I handed each box full of delicious organic produce over to each person that had placed an order I felt more and more like there was a real underground movement happening. Change is in the wind.

 

People are more and more informed and able to make intelligent decisions about food, and for that I am glad. It made the 5:00 am start worth while. I felt overwhelmed that there are people out there willing to put their philosophical beliefs about food and where they should be getting it into practice. I have to say I’m proud to be part of this change. I’m not sure where it will go, or how much impact it will have, but big things take time and plenty of baby steps. On the drive to the city we passed 6 large 16 wheeler semi trailers marked for two major supermarket chains. We, heading the opposite direction had a small trailer full of vegetables grown just an hour out of the city. Hell knows what was in those big trucks, but no doubt it would have been either highly produced factory food or ‘fresh’ produce that’s traveled many a mile and been in storage for longer than it naturally should have.

If only the growers that supplied the major supermarket chains were able to supply local outlets instead of it being sent to a distribution centre in a major city then transported back to their local supermarket. It’s really only a matter of time before fuel costs are so high that the food system will have to change. But for now we will do what we can by offering fresh organic produce to Melbourne, and Ballarat and keep the food transport under an hour travel time.

For everyone that ordered and picked up the veg, I thank you for your choice. I look forward to hearing more about your back yard veg patches and what you did with this delicious organic produce!

 

hard at work, living simple

Today some friends dropped by for a cup of tea. After they left I went outside and watered the garden, as I often do when I need time alone for thought digestion. My friends are on a bit of a journey, metaphorically that is, I don’t know if they actually have existing travelling plans. They’ve been actively making changes in their life, in order to get to a point of simple living. Stressful long-hour jobs have been discarded, the house has been sold and debt has been consolidated. It’s been a predetermined process with an aim to live with less, to eliminate stress and to embrace the beauty of simplicity. They sound better, they look better but they’re still somewhat in battle mode. They, like many of us are fighting to reach that end goal. That little house on the prairie or maybe that sweet hidden cabin deep in the woods, where they feed themselves from a garden, milk a house cow, collect fresh eggs and where life is simple, ethical and possibly only improved with a hint of nude mud dancing.

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Many years ago I too was dreaming of this type of living, minus the nude mud dancing, I have my limits. Like the possibility of spending a night with Scarlett Johansson, the dream seemed so very far away for me, impossible if you must. (Scarlett if you’re reading this my number is 0432 342 555…just sayin). Many times I’d quietly sneak off to cry in frustration (a manly cry, let’s make that clear…and to confirm manly status just thought I’d let you know I wear Old Spice…just in case you were wondering….it’s very manly, musky in fact). My dream of living La buena vida seemed as far away as a Dirty Dancing sequel. I used to think I’d die before I got there. This is not a joke, I actually often thought I would die in my old life. I was after all, working 6 days a week, smoking like a chimney and drinking like a lord. When your doctor tells you you’re a walking heart attack (or stroke) when you’re in your early thirties, you tend to drop the humour. I was determined to make a change but I knew it would take a big commitment, mentally, spiritually and physically. I was determined to achieve this with out the aid of ‘Simple Living for Dummies’ or ‘Positive thinking and shit’ by the Dali Lama.

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Reading this blog one might easily make the assumption that I have achieved this utopia of simplicity, that my life is verging on dreamy and idealistic. But like Star Wars, the story isn’t true. I’m still on that journey to achieve the perfect simple life, and as I’m imperfect and human I will never actually get there, to perfect simple living that will make me super happy. I’m doing my best to get real close, just a bee’s willy away some might say. And because I write about said journey on this blog, I have my detractors. The people that are an itzy bitzy cranky trousers because I no longer slave at an office job, I have zero credit card debt and am no longer owned by a mortgage. Instead I earn bugger all doing odd jobs, I provide for my family in a non-conformist manner, I’m good friends with my ex-wife and I’m a partner and lover to my girlfriend. Apparently this is annoying to some people and for that I’m deeply sympathetic to their frustration, but allow me to continue.

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Back to my friends, that cup of tea story I started on earlier. Yes I tend to get sidetracked. In a way my friends are going through similar dealings with detractors. It might be family or friends and sometimes it’s complete unknowns that will be telling them that they’re doing it all wrong. In most cases they will be saying it behind your back, as polite people will. Many believe that you’re supposed to find love, get married, work you butt off, earn money, own stuff, out-do your neighbours and pop out perfect kids. People that believe in this are in fact, idiots. Because that approach is not suited for everyone. From my short life I’d say life is more about experiences, love, culture, memories, achieving contentedness and if you’re lucky, very lucky…finding true happiness. The latter of which is THE goal for people these days. But let’s face it, it’s a bit rubbish. You can’t be happy all the time, not even half the time, but you can be content. And I reckon that’s something worth aiming for.

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So I wish my friends all the best on their journey. I’m sure they’ll get there. To somewhere at least. And for the people that write to me and tell me they’re on a similar journey, well let me hitch a ride with you. Because at times my old truck gets a flat tyre, the engine runs out of juice or it blows a head gasket. We must remind ourselves, that we’re all brothers and sisters…if we’re in this together.

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PS. I mentioned the Old Spice/manly vibe for those people that still believe I’m a redneck sexist male who wants women to return to the kitchen. Well I don’t want that because I’m in the kitchen and it’s a very small kitchen, so if you could be so kind as to remove yourself from said metaphorical kitchen and allow me to have a sense of humour.