So then!

The horrible, terrible, odious office job has been QUIT:

01 Quitter's Raga GOLD PANDA by ANNIMULL FORRILLA

Notice on the flat has been given.  Host farms have been emailed.  

Preparations In General have begun. I am going WWOOFing!!

In case you haven't already read it a million times (I guess not everyone Googles 'WWOOF blog' incessantly like I've been doing), here is the WWOOF explanation bit:

WWOOF, or Willing Workers On Organic Farms, is a worldwide network of organisations which allow volunteers to contact host farms and arrange farm/gardening work placements.  Each country has it's own separate organisation, e.g. WWOOF UK (which is  a little annoying as it means you have to join - and pay for - one in each country you want to go to).  WWOOF volunteers, or WWOOFers, generally don't receive financial payment, instead the host provides food, accommodation and opportunities to learn, in exchange for help with farming or gardening activities. WWOOFers get first-hand experience in organic and ecologically sound growing methods, along with the chance to sample life in a rural setting or a different country. 

Photo from www.ediblelandscaping.co.uk - this is not me but I did a weekend WWOOF here to try it out!

Although I've been dimly aware for years that such a thing existed, I had it lumped with 'gap year' and 'Australia/New Zealand' in my mental filing system and had never given it a seconds thought, quite frankly, until a bizarre Eureka moment in February this year.... cue wavy screen indicating back-through-the-mists-of-time section...

It was a dark and dreary Sunday night.  I was doing my customary beached whale impression in front of the TV, simultaneously watching Countryfile and dreading work the next day in a stunning example of multitasking, when suddenly a lightening bolt of realisation hit me.

Countryfile were doing a piece on a biodynamic farm; Julia Bradbury was chatting to a man who had filled a number of cow horns with manure, buried them in the ground for 12 months and was now stirring the aged manure into a tank full of water.  For an hour.  Ready to be sprayed over his crops by hand. 

Now, normally this would have filled me with dismay - that a perfectly sensible human being could waste their time on such hippy dippy bullshit (haha) - I had on many an occasion raised a cynical eyebrow at my sister when she mentioned biodynamic growing, or cultivating plants 'in tune with the moon'.  Indeed, on screen even Julia was looking deeply skeptical/as though she thought the man was certifiable. But on this day, on this particular day, a little chime went off in my pea-brain.  THAT'S WHAT YOU WANT', my thoughts said.

I dragged myself up from my beached-whale pose in outrage and sat forward, examining my traitorous thoughts again.  I wanted to go and work on a biodynamic WHAT now?! Yep, there was no mistaking it; I wanted to get me some of that.  

Fast forward through some extensive internet research, tedious soul searching, a gradual dimming of biodynamic to bog-standard organic, experimental volunteering and months - months! - of suffering through work whilst fantasising about the feel of the sun on my face, the wind in my hair, oh! a farmers life for me! etc.  and here we are.

SOD YOU OFFICE/CITY LIFE, I'M GOING WWOOFING! YEAH!!

For a bit anyway.  Let's see what happens.