The very first job is for Mrs Self Sufficient to decide on where the ideal place is to situate the vegetable plot - Potage. Mr Self Sufficient's first job is to clear the jungle. He can be heard to be cursing and swearing and saying:
"I think we (him) will tackle the overgrown acre of brambles, rushes, rose-bay willow herb, couch grass ('Twitch') and fifty years of the previous owners very own personal land fill site. Anybody want an old gas mask, Anderson air raid shelter and ten dozens tins of powdered egg? We won't use any fertilizers, pesticides or man-made chemicals. Just good old manual labour, blood sweat and tears, 8 cans of strong ale (strictly medicinal of course) and a sack of Mars Bars for the missus.
Four hours later. You're walking around doing a wonderful impersonation of the 'hunchback of self sufficient kingdom'. You've broken your British manufactured spade ('made in Taiwan') and you have decided that you're going through a St John of the cross: 'Dark night of the soul' experience.
The vicar's wife won't be visiting you again either, because she was having a wonderful conversation with Mrs Self Sufficient, inviting you both to church and for a 'nice cup of tea' afterwards, and to look at all the parishioners latest holiday snaps, because she heard you call her something and it sounded like 'punt,' but it wasn't and you were really calling a blackberry root. She's gone and you flop to the ground and crack open another tin of foaming ale ("Tish") and you look all around a your wonderful potage. It looks like hens having been scratching around in your desert bowl wasteland.
Oh the joys of being Mr and Mrs Self Sufficient and their little smallholding!