We’re escaping to the country. Wish us luck...

Kate Hughes is finally ditching the big city to live out the eco-friendly life she’s always dreamed of – surely now it should be a whole lot easier to go zero waste... right?

Somewhere in the daydreams about veg patches, I’ve forgotten I’m a city girl (Getty)

It’s official. We’re moving to the country. And if you’re of a certain age you’ll now be muttering the phrase “gonna eat a lot of peaches” under your breath.

I’m not sure about that bit, it’s more apple – for which read cider – country around here. But I’ve got high hopes that our big move from the beloved suburban semi, the move we’ve been planning for 10 years, will make all our eco dreams come true.

How hard can it be? The packing has gone well at least. I got a load of cardboard boxes so big our children could live in them from a very nice couple on freecycle and old newspapers have replaced bubble wrap – much to the dismay of those same kids, who have just discovered the addictive wonders of the stuff.

And seeing as we’re only moving 40 minutes down the road, plus the fact that we don’t have too much stuff these days thanks to our informal in-house war on overconsumption, an EV van is set to move us.

The countryside though. Now that it’s happening, I’m slightly terrified. I’ve never lived rurally.

For holidays? Sure. Sat glued to Rightmove for hours on end when the roar of the traffic on the busy road outside started haunting my dreams? Absolutely. I even married a farmer.

With the sudden disappearance of everyone who wasn’t a blood relation from his family’s farm in March 2020, I spent lockdowns juggling a full-time job, homeschooling, writing a book, and clattering about knee-deep in mud trying to work out which end of the telehandler was the business end.

But somewhere in the pandemic-induced stasis, daydreams about veg patches and ambitions of watching the kids disappear over a hillside into some sort of Cider with Rosie glow during the holidays, I’d forgotten that I’m a city girl.

Liverpool, Doha, San Jose, London, these were my places growing up. How do you live in the countryside? Properly, that is. And permanently.

It’s a question that seems to be coming up a lot right now as those who responded to the existential threat of Covid by upping sticks and going rural. A few, though certainly not all, have repatriated. I note some city house prices are recovering as the non-life-threatening aspects of urban life float back up to the surface.

As for the prospect of living off that new, luxuriantly expansive veg patch, I haven’t been able to keep anything alive long enough to feed us yet

And then there’s zero waste, and everything else. The expectation is that it’s easier to be green when you don’t live in a concrete jungle. It’s about space I guess – veg patch space, flour and oat sack storage space, a kitchen bigger than a postage stamp to do all that prep in.

But although zero waste is still not the norm in cities and towns, there are also plastic-free refill shops popping up all over the place. Major brands on busy high streets now shout their eco-credentials from every store window. Responsible consumption is no longer the territory of hippies or hipsters. It’s becoming more mainstream, more supported, easier all the time.

I’m not about to suggest that there isn’t a determined, enthusiastic, deeply knowledgeable, movement going on out of town, because there really is. To suggest otherwise would be simplistic and downright offensive. But it’s not universal here either.

When I tried to explain our choices to the new neighbour he laughed in my face. “I suppose you’re vegan too are you?” He’s going to love living next door to us.

As for the prospect of living off that new, luxuriantly expansive veg patch, I haven’t been able to keep anything alive long enough to feed us yet. I couldn’t even manage to properly store the apples from the beaten-up tree in our little suburban patch – the harvest that required zero input from me.

Of course we have lofty ideas of perusing the perfect rows before plucking a tasty morsel or two for tea. But the reality is clearly going to be tomato blight and a poorly anticipated hunger gap.

Meanwhile, the nearest refill store is, as of tomorrow, 40 minutes away. Just next to the old house in fact. It’s quite a trek for plastic-free yeast flakes.

(Yes, I know the neighbour would enjoy ripping us apart for that last sentence. There’s no way he’s getting wind of this column.)

So wish us luck for the escape to the country, would you? I think we’re going to need it.

‘Going Zero: One Family’s Journey to Zero Waste and a Greener Lifestyle’, by Kate Hughes, is now available to order