No running water, no car, no electricity or any of the things it powers: the internet, phone, washing machine, radio or light bulb. Just a wooden cabin, on a smallholding, by the edge of a stand of spruce. I didn’t think of it as ‘giving up’ or ‘living without’ though; phrases that are always in danger of sounding sacrificial, drawing attention to the loss instead of to what might be gained. Throughout most of my life, I chose money and machines, unconsciously choosing to live without the things they replaced. The question, one we all too seldom ask ourselves, is what are we prepared to lose, and what do we want to gain, as we fumble our way through our short, precious lives?
The first thing was to draw up…