Bramley tree renewal
Clearing compost heap by bathhouse
Pointing up fencing and fenceposts
Taking back brambles by regeneration area
Scything nettles in orchard
Scything bracken and thistles
Collecting brashings from Douglas firs
Foraging for fungi, chestnuts, walnuts (children must have
   passed both mushroom and penknife tests)
Taking ash and scattering in the woods
Knocking back laurel sprouts’ regrowth
Greasing tack
WEEDING!!
WOODING!!!!

Today’s something called a ‘communal day’, where all work is for the common good. So there are no jobs to go to today. When I bumped into Sedge, one of Jesse Marlon’s mates, by the roundhouse, I didn’t obviously mention that we’re going skiing tomorrow, Pierre and I.

It sounds so self-indulgent, un-ecofriendly and almost criminally Condé Nast Travellerish. Frankly, just being here is harder work than I’ve ever done – the business of staying alive, not to mention dry and clean, when you have no electricity, no water, no loos, no floors or ceilings, no dishwashers, no washing machines, no Tesco Extra… it’s more than a full-time commitment, it’s almost as bad as camping, something I hate more than anything in the world. Here, in this valley, I’m surrounded by environmental fundamentalists, greenorexics and eco-worriers wedded to the principle that if one robin redbreast in a cage puts all heaven in a rage, then one tumble dryer in a basement will upset the balance of the whole firmament. This lot are so green, they’re almost capable of photosynthesis.

But they are also, frankly, thin, slightly underfed and exhausted-looking, despite their layers of woolly jumpers and scarves and mittens and leg-warmers and bobble hats, which they only remove completely once a week, to use the communal bathhouse, which is a two-hour ordeal involving an ancient wood-burner, a back-boiler and a damp towel that is not quite big enough and has trailed in the mud, and certainly one I’ve never been desperate or, indeed, dirty enough to undertake.

Here, there is earth to be tilled, vegetables – Swiss chard, Brussels sprouts, sprout tops, cabbage, broccoli – all brassicas at this time of year – to be tended, a barn to be built from fallen or windblown wood, a cider press to clean and the steam engine to maintain. There is always wood to be chopped to be burnt in the individual dwellings or in the bathhouse or in the communal open kitchen, where apples are stewed or porridge stirred over the fire. There are two cows, Lazy and Daisy, a pig, Jade, and an evil-tempered albino horse, George, and the goat. There are always dishes to wash in the copper sink made from the top of an old boiler hammered into a pine work top, and with a plug in the middle that empties the dishwater into a trap made of a sieve – rather clever.

There are dishes to be dried and put away tidily in the outdoor kitchen, where blackened baking trays are piled in order of size on open shelves.