An old man lives at the bottom of my garden. His name is Robert Barkus, or Bakehouse, or Bagust. Nobody is quite sure. But I often sense him around when I’m gardening, and I’ve found out a fair bit ab

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Within just a few weeks, I had nearly been wee’d on by a naked mole-rat, waited for five hours for a few horses to poo and smelt the sulphurous pong of some seafloor sludge collected from the depths o

Plundering a local byway for a spot of festive foraging, John Lewis-Stempel finds all life proliferating in the multitudinous micro-habitat of the winter hedgerow

Moments enjoyed, lessons learned, handy advice, weird stuff that happened: welcome to the little bits and pieces that don’t make big stories, but do make all the difference.