dreams Archives - The Smallest Smallholding

No vegetables here!

A view across Bedfordshire earlier this month - (my Smallest Smallholding can't be seen)

A few weeks on since I found out that my regular work would be coming to an end, and here I am, out on my own in the “wilderness” of full time freelance work. It’s been really tough. Especially since we found out that our RSPCA rescue bunny Ozzy needs some major dental work. Which will cost hundreds. But what are you going to do? He’s worth it.

I’ve been hibernating away in the house, completely and utterly ignoring my Smallest Smallholding and only venturing out when the birds need feeding. And they’ve been getting through a LOT of food. The bitter cold and snow must have been tough and I cannot fathom where they would have found adequate food when other people’s gardens are so barren. Sometimes I wish more people took an interest and would try to feed the birds more often, and take the onus away from me. Not that I don’t enjoy seeing such a huge variety of birds on a daily basis – it makes it so much more *alive* out there.

But since my work and impending vet trips and finances have been greedily occupying so much of my time and my thoughts, little else has managed to penetrate my crowded brain. So it’s no surprise to learn that I’ve not got the potatoes chitting, not got the garlic on the go, and the vegetable beds remain empty and unfertilised. There is so much to do, and my determination is wavering at best, but I’m getting there. I’m trying to establish a routine whereby I get up, work intensely and then get a few other jobs done. And I include going out for a piece of cake as a “job”, thanks very much. The problem is, if you’ve never done it before, let me tell you that working from home (and for yourself) is really hard. There are so many temptations and distractions, especially when you need to be online. Technically, I should be working right now but I thought it was about time that I drummed out a blog post, updating you all on the “nothing interesting” that is my life at the moment. I also need to take a lot of breaks, because my back, ribs, shoulder and neck are being stubborn and fighting me all the time.

I haven’t forgotten about my last post and my ‘pipe dream’. I’m still mulling it over but I have to be a realist because finances are and will always be a huge issue. I’m not saying it’s an impossible venture but I’m also very aware of the obstacles facing me, and I do not stake all my life’s ambitions on something that may never happen. I would very much like it to happen but I have to have several contingency plans, where I can be content and not full of “what ifs” and regrets. Because I already have those. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin.

When I was 17, I went for an interview at Brasenose College at Oxford University to read English. I was up against independent and public-school types, pretty much all of which had studied Chaucer at length, whilst I had studied one stanza of Chaucer when I was 13. And yes, the interview covered a great deal of Chaucer. I did not impress. But they must have seem some merit because I was presented with the opportunity to re-interview at Lincoln College, Oxford. I declined. Why? Because I had Art A-Level (what a mistake and waste of time that was) coursework to finish and hand in the following week, because my teachers were pressuring me and would not “share” my time (“Your Theatre Studies rehearsals are important!” “Your Theatre Studies rehearsals are interfering with your English Literature studies!” “Your other subjects have to take a back seat, Art requires a lot of dedication!” yada yada yada), because I didn’t like a lot of the people I met at the interview (although some were lovely), because I was told that “this is what you’re studying for” (erm, no? I was studying to get my qualifications, not for Oxford), and because I hated the food in the dining hall. I was dog-tired of education, I was bitter and I wasn’t sure I’d fit in.

Looking back, I think I made a huge mistake, because now I will never know if Lincoln would have offered me something more and whether I would have made it. I might have felt more at home, I might have studied some fantastic subjects at a world-class university, and I might have gone into the world as an Oxford graduate. I might not be stuck in the dull, suburban town that I grew up in. I might not be fighting for every penny that I earn. I might not be embarrassed to tell people about my degree from the local university that hasn’t got the best reputation (and rightly so, in my experience).

But the thing is, you make your own bed and you have to lie in it. I was too young, too tired and not in the right place to make that kind of decision back then. I pretty much gave up going to school by the end, as everybody wanted a piece of me and I was “expected” to excel. I did well – three As and a C. BUT – there are people that I know that achieved average grades, and because of their determination, their work ethic and their propensity for networking, and their passion for their job – they’re doing really well.

And so the summary of my rambling is this: you can have all the qualifications and good grades in the world, but you still have to work hard to keep achieving, you still need to be focused and determined, and the chances are you’ll get there. And I stopped doing that when I left school.It was easy – study hard, get good grades. That was my goal. Now? I don’t know. I do know that if you give me a project that I love, and I’ll excel. I’ll work hard. I’ll be determined. I’ll push myself.

And so the problem is working out what I love, and making it into a viable career.

When I was at school, I swore blind that I’d never be a ‘desk jockey’. In my adult life, I tried it out of necessity and it a) crippled me (I’m really not built for desk work, ask my physio and osteopath) and b) sucked out my soul. When I was really young, I was convinced that I was going to change the world – I had dreams of rescuing animals, “saving” the environment, like some Boudicean vegetarian ultra-hip Greenpeace warrior in Stella McCartney (either that, or an author, an actor or singer, or why not all three?). I was either a raving narcissist, a fantasist, or just a bit quirky. And I hadn’t grasped the concept of “making a living” and “paying bills”, either.

Trouble is, in my mind I haven’t grown up much and I still want to achieve most of those things. I think I can accept that I’ll never be a professional singer, though. That’s fine. But the rest? Yes please.

*Sigh*

How about you? What did you want to be when you were young? How does it compare now? Have you given up on those dreams?

I’m bringing this post to you from a very wet and very grey Bedfordshire – not untypical for this time of year, but somehow I find the lack of ground frosts, snow and sleet this year a bit unnerving. There are lots of weeds in my garden that I rely on the cold weather to kill off (at ground level, at least), and it’s looking farrrrr too green out there for my liking. Feburary has been slated as the month to watch for the snow-type affairs, and my local Tesco (mehh, blehh, yuck!) is holding out by continuing to sell snow shovels and sledges in a prominent position by the store entrance. I don’t know if it’s going to happen. It’s too mild. It’s unsettling.

… And that word continues to dominate my life at the moment. Unsettling. Disconcerted. Yeah – that, kind of vibe.

I was going to put up a post earlier this month, emanating positivity and hope about the year ahead (and the fact that the world WILL see 2013 in tact), and listing my usual New Year’s Resolutions. But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it, because I just can’t quite decide what I’m doing or where I’m at. January has been like a limbo for me, and that feeling has resonated throughout the month and was amplified last week when I received The Call. The result of The Call was that my long-standing freelance arrangement with regular work in an office has abruptly come to an end. I wasn’t under contract as such. And I had an inkling it was coming, but my unofficial “redundancy” (because let’s be clear, it was not ME they didn’t need anymore, but my position as a copywriter) has left me reeling a bit. Aside from the friends I made, the regular social-work interaction that keeps me sane and a basic salary that I could rely on, my safety net has been taken away. I don’t blame anyone, but there’s still that underlying feeling of rejection. “It’s just business,” I think to myself. But after almost two years I can’t help but feel a little bit shit about it. At the moment I’m writing down things a lot on paper, trying to formulate ideas, and trying not to feel too bitter about things. I’ve bought purple hair dye because I feel as though I need to rebel a bit. Against what, I don’t know. I think I’m just feeling a bit belligerent in the face of redundancy.

But I guess all I can do is think about the opportunities. I am back to being 100% flexible with my time. I am entirely responsible for my input and output again. I suppose I am entirely self-sufficient again, and I cannot afford to rest on my laurels. I have lots of upcoming work over the next 2-3 months but beyond that is a dull haze and that’s the slightly scary part. So I have to take action NOW. I have to seriously weigh up my options and consider whether I want to continue putting in so much time at the laptop, or whether my other freelance work can sit alongside a new “career” or work path. Is there any way I can start afresh, do something with my hands, employ my slightly dodgy artistic or less-dodgy literary skills, my veggie culinary skills, my passion for animals (not a vet, not a veterinary nurse)? At least I have the veg patches to keep costs down this year, if need be.

My dream is to open up a sustainable complex – say, a converted barn or similar – that serves ethical food, that houses art projects, green projects, little shops and artisan workspaces. A place that helps to bring something exciting to the local community and offers something practical but fun for visitors. Maybe a food and herb garden for selling fresh produce or supplying the on-site eatery, too. Somewhere entirely original and inspiring.

But without any kind of start-up capital to speak of, it’s a complete pipe-dream.

It always comes down to money.

So what do I do? How do I do it?

Answers on a post card/in the comments section, please.