The other day my research took me to meet a poet who has a labyrinth in the grounds of her cottage. She invited me to follow her round its winding path with a question in my mind, because she said, as often as not, the answer is revealed when you reach the centre. People have been making labyrinths for more than 4,000 years as places for spiritual reflection. There is something deeply grounding in following a labyrinth barefoot, feeling the ground beneath your feet.

By contrast, I’ve also visited the site of a new by-pass, and interviewed some of the people moving thousands of tonnes of soil to create a new road. Like the labyrinth, a by-pass can take you on a journey, although I suspect few find spiritual nourishment there. The town centre however will become quieter once freed from nose to tail traffic. Like the labyrinth, it will become a place where people can quietly reflect and perhaps remember those who lived here since the settlement was established around a thousand years ago.

Finally, I’ve been reading Adrian Bell’s The Flower and the Wheel, which was described to me as his manifesto for change. My new book Down to Earth will contain some snippets from Bell’s book, for example he wrote that, ‘if a man knew the story of what lies between the soil in his right hand, and the flour in his left, he would be splendidly educated.’ Sadly today, too few know the story of how wheat is grown, harvested, milled and then baked to make bread.

Already, this book is taking on a life of its own, and leading me gently on a journey that one day, I hope that you, as a reader of my book, will follow.