“... (a symptom of the malaise: the spellchecker on my computer is happy with the word ‘urbanization’ but not ‘ruralization’).”

When, I wonder, are we going to get to the art/culture arguments in favour of cities. Those are what have kept me urbanised for the past many years. Irrationally, perhaps, but the result is the same.

George Monbiot illuminates and infuriates in equal measure, although I suspect, after reading Chris Smaje’s review, that I will not be paying much attention in future. I have not read Regenesis, so will say nothing about it myself. Two quotes from Chris (of many others I could have chosen):

“[A]n alternative, perhaps counterintuitive but more plausible argument [is] that low food prices in fact are a fundamental cause of global poverty.”

“[T]here’s no such thing as ‘an inexorable economic logic’, there are just political games with winners and losers – a point the old George Monbiot once understood.”

Yup.

Interesting account of a single piece of civil disobedience and its aftermath.

Splendid piece by a splendid broadcaster. Only one thing to push back against:

Music helps. Sound beds help. Clear simple writing helps.

Clear writing, obviously. But music and sound beds? This is much more culturally determined, in my view, and I don't know how best to cope with it.

“For Monbiot to highlight the complexity of soil but ignore the complexities involved in nutrition doesn’t make his faith in a protein techno-fix convincing.”

“It’s not clear, though, why a shift in attitudes won’t lead us to increase our intake of beans, nuts and lentils instead.”

Thank you Dan Saladino, especially for that final “Nevertheless ...”

I dunno, maybe an underground garden (blog) isn’t such a bad idea. Maybe, in the scorching heat of social media we need a cooler, darker space for connections and discussion. Where things grow more slowly but still bear fruit 25 years later.

Makes sense to me

Very provocative, although I’m not sure I could cope.

Really interesting essay from Tom Armitage, about getting on his bike and getting on. The thrill of those first long rides takes me right back to my first London to Brighton and the sheer unalloyed joy of whooshing down into the town.