‘…but you don’t need to go that far in the world to witness the systems failing, to see what misery and chaos it would mean for most…as domination and exploitation find another level. I may romantically consider the return of donkey fields and allotments where Matalan and TK Maxx car parks stood, but hunger, illness, pestilence and death will spread swiftly as controls fail and folk fall into their own shit and the rotting stuff of things made. And if the earth needs to recover, permanently falling in this shit is a blessing. And remember, capitalism is only here for now and we wouldn’t be here for now if we hadn’t eaten our own in the past…

If a man cannot ‘love’ his own act of creation without belief in some imitation, then how can he ‘love’ the planet without imitation?

But I use the car and take flights, my trousers are made in Pakistan, the pockets of which are stuffed with foam bullets from my stepson’s plastic nerf gun. The peanuts I am snacking on come from China and every time I turn the radio on I slump helpless into some horror acted out on the world stage, and like a five year old, say it is not of my making. But it is. My small footprint is no solace in the face of this harm. For fuck’s sake, peanuts were grown from my front door only thirty years ago…’