John Elkington

Continuing the theme of trips to different parts of southern England, we headed off to Dover and then Deal on Thursday, to see our Canadian friends Doug and Margot Miller. Doug founded GlobeScan in 1987, the same year we founded SustainAbility. Thirty years ago this year – and we have been fellow travellers pretty much ever since.

We walked along the beach from Deal to Walmer, visiting Walmer Castle, where I had to exit the castle to take an urgent call with Geoff (Lye). A high wind, with dust devils swirling across the gravelled drive alongside. Semi-apocalyptic feel.

Then the four of us walked back for dinner at Whits of Walmer, whose proprietors we knew from the days when they ran Whits in Kensington. Wonderful atmosphere and food in an old smugglers’ inn.

The next day, yesterday, Elaine and I went for the first time to see Dover Castle, expecting to stay a couple of hours – and staying five. Wonderful reconstruction of a royal court in the late 12th century in the Great Tower. Got there at opening time, so visitor numbers allowed a reflective exploration.

Later, we went down in the once-secret tunnels in which Operation Dynamo was planned, the evacuation of the British Expeditionary Force from Dunkirk. As we were waiting to go down into the tunnels, a lone Spitfire growled past. Talking to the guide afterwards, he mentioned meeting one man who had been 17 when he was part of the crew of one of the Little Ships. He came back an old man.

Hope to see Christopher Nolan’s new Dunkirk film, launched this week. That said, it apparently pretty much ignores Ramsay’s role, and many other things. But at least it does help counter the misconception that the RAF went AWOL during the evacuation.

A delightful last supper at Babington House with the Mills family, where Simon is a founder member, and where Gaia used to work in the gardens aeons ago, before we set off back to London. Via Hill House, to see the Elkingtons of Little Rissington. Thrumming, as ever. Eleven – or was it thirteen? – to lunch.

Had read about the Sweet Track, but in the event more or less stumbled upon it went we visited Shapwick National Nature Reserve. Details of such trackways, created thousands of years ago, can be found here. The Sweet Track has been dated back to the spring of 3806 BC, so almost six thousand years ago.

The Avalon Marshes, of which Shapwick is part, are a wonderful example of how degraded environments can be restored to nature. odd to feel the sponginess of the earth underfoot – and roads hereabouts seem to undulate, which may be because of subsidence, or maybe cider drinking by the road-makers?

In the context of rapid, disruptive change to the capitalist system, and growing environmental and societal pressures for a fundamental re-think, Breakthrough Money explored how we can ensure capitalism is on a breakthrough – rather than a breakdown – trajectory. The goal? To foster collaboration between different actors to change the system from critical mess to critical mass. More here. And much more to come.

Having found Glastonbury suffocatingly alternative, what a relief to find Burrow Mump such a delight. The sky was displaying its blue wizardry, with brilliantly complicated cloudscapes. Met a nice man at the top with a smiling lurcher and passed a very fat woman peeing in the car park on the way up, like a beluga, inadequately shielded by tattooed husband holding a small floor mat. But am sure conditions would have been worse in King Alfred’s day.

Indeed, having just finished Yasunari’s Kawabata’s extraordinary Snow Country, I am now diving into Justin Pollard’s wonderfully insightful Alfred the Great: The Man who Made England. Highly recommended.

Then on the RSPB’s Greylake Reserve. Fascinating to feel molehill dirt that is freshly excavated (soft and damp) and older (more like clinker, if you remember that). Various warblers and dragonflies, but a highlight was meeting an emissary of the local Kermit Society

Next, back to the King Alfred monument in Athelney, where the same moody sky framed the scene – reminding me of our visit many moons ago to the Little Bighorn Battlefield. Happily, after many struggles along the way, the Alfred story turned out better for him than the Little Bighorn did for the headstrong George Armstrong Custer.