Tom Doorley reflects on the need to escape the world’s trials and tribulations
You would need to be a hermit not to have concerns about the state of the world these days. I’m guessing that levels of stress and anxiety have never been higher since, perhaps, the Cuban missile crisis, a world event of which I was unaware due to extreme infancy. The great newspaper editor and historian of World War II, Sir Max Hastings, writing in The Times recently, gave us a glimpse into his home life.
“I dislike being a merchant of ill tidings,” he wrote. “Whenever our children and grandchildren come to the house, my wife says imperiously: ‘You are not to tell them we are all doomed!’ She is right, of course. We have a duty of hope to the next generation.”
I have to say that this did little to ease my mind over my early morning tea. So, what do I do when the world threatens to spoil my peace of mind? Well, there are no sovereign remedies, of course. It’s all very well to avoid the news, but I’ve been a journalist since 1986 and it’s a bit of an addiction – but I have trained myself to take it in sips rather than gulps.
Reading
I long ago realised that I read for escapism rather than painful confrontation of reality. There are exceptions, of course. Andrew O’Hagan’s brilliant Caledonian Road is Dickens for the 21st Century – not exactly cheery stuff, but compelling. Also, Jonathan Coe’s latest novel, The Proof of My Innocence, which I found to be a page- turner, does feature Liz Truss, the death of Queen Elizabeth, and the worst bits of the modern Tory party.
Escapism, then, for me involves old detective novels from the golden age of crime fiction: Margery Allingham, Dorothy L Sayers, Ngaio Marsh, Josephine Tey. All women who are very good on gore and menace but also on careful characterisation. And then, there’s PG Wodehouse, aka The Master, one of the greatest crafters of the English language, a genius that he applied exclusively to making us laugh. If you have not sampled his exquisite prose, may I suggest some of his lesser-known works as an amuse bouche – the Mr Mulliner stories?
As the great, but rather ghastly, Evelyn Waugh said of Wodehouse: “He will continue to release future generations from captivity that may be more irksome than our own.” Well, irksome is more than a slight understatement.
In a second-hand bookshop in Edinburgh a while back, I picked up a book by Adrian Bell – father of the news journalist Martin – who, after public school and Oxford, became a farm labourer and, ultimately, a brilliant chronicler of country life in post-war England. Yes, this volume was full of idyllic country scenes but it also served as a reminder of how agriculture has changed so much for the worse and how the countryside – especially ancient hedgerows – has been destroyed. So, escapism but with a side order of gloom.
Being outside
My other escape from irksome reality is being outside. It could be the essentials of gardening: Sowing, planting, pruning, even weeding. Or having pipedreams of creating a garden in our big old former farmyard. Or, actually starting a woodland/shade garden.
Not that gardening is always relaxing; it can be frustrating. Pigeons eat brassicas, mice devastate the
early sowing of peas, rats attack the sweetcorn. As has been said many times, nature abhors a garden but when it goes right, there are few better feelings.
There are a few projects in Britain where NHS GPs can prescribe a course of gardening in centres that provide teaching and support. This is a simply brilliant idea for people in low spirits and who may be socially isolated. Gardening brings great peace when done alone but it’s also one of the most sociable activities.
In terms of general health, there’s no doubting the benefits of growing your own fruit and vegetables. Firstly, there’s the physical activity. I found that planting a few rows of potatoes earlier this year was as good as a workout. And then there’s the produce, picked and eaten within minutes rather than days or weeks by way of the supermarkets’ supply chains. Plus, the reassurance that you know exactly how your carrot or your lettuce has been treated, ie, not with agrichemicals that are licensed for “commercial use only”.
I’m sometimes asked what crops I find most worthwhile, and the answer is surprisingly easy – tomatoes and leafy salads. We have our own tomatoes for five months of the year (and hope to push it to six shortly). The difference lies in the taste and the freshness. Commercial varieties have been bred for shelf life, so they have thick skins at the expense of that essential tomato flavour. The easily available varieties you can grow in a greenhouse or even a porch – such as Harbinger, Gardener’s Delight, Ailsa Craig, and Moneymaker – wouldn’t last 24 hours in a supply chain. And they taste amazing. I’ve had guests almost swoon at the flavour of an old variety called Yellow Queen.
I’m lucky enough to have a few acres of old woodland, where I often find myself with a brush cutter and a saw, trying to keep the paths clear. But occasionally I just go and sit among the trees, enjoying the dappled light, the tranquillity, and the chance to reflect. I just have to keep those reflections on the positive side, and this “forest bathing”, as the Japanese call it, does lend itself to that.
