Late last year, it was gently suggested to me that I take some leave. In fact, it was suggested that my leave liability might be worth reducing significantly and, generously, I was given until December 2025 to get there. I love my work, but I appreciate that the advice given was important. So I took a full month from mid-December 2023 to mid-January 2024 and gardened, went on a small beach holiday with family and friends, and immersed myself in long walks—some of which were peppered with music and some of which were silent. More leave is planned.
As it happens, returning to a practice I have not observed for some years, on most of my walks I listened to various podcasts focused on one of my key and longstanding personal passions and hobbies—the relationship of food, nutrition, and health to our ways of being and flourishing in the world over the life-course. Those who know me know that this orientation might border on … well … working!
Either way, still “hooked” on three particular podcasts by mid-January, I then returned, first, to the computer in my home office and thereafter to my two hot-desks at the University of Tasmania’s Sandy Bay and Hobart CBD campuses. But by then, as a result of the insights gained from listening to about 200 h of material, I had comprehensively rethought my relationship with food and reshaped the geographies both of home—planting, harvesting, cooking, and processing—and of shopping and procurement. My impulse has nothing to do with any article that follows this editorial in our first issue for 2024, but it is informed by a strong desire to see work in this journal focused on food geographies and food futures. (Given the press of time—being on leave, I left my editorial until the eleventh hour, and the production team needed it last week—I will be brief at this juncture and my comments imply no judgement of others’ health and wellbeing practices.).
So what is my point? Simply this: Because of that aforesaid longstanding interest in nutrition and health over the life-course, for years I have approached food and eating as experiments in self-care; I am my own highly adherent guinea-pig, if you like. Of course, I do consult my GP, a functional and integrative medical expert with additional formal qualifications in biochemistry. I keep records. In my leisure time, I read scholarly papers from medical and nutrition journals and—in all likelihood—am a nerdy about it all, and I guess I thought I had nailed “it.”
But new findings, including from large, randomised control trials such as that by Lee et al. (2022), include insights about the deleterious effects of ultra-processed foods. Reading such studies has prompted four significant responses in me: (1) With my partner’s blessing and collaboration, I audited what we purchase and eat and then reshaped our food choices. (2) I have rediscovered fermenting and preserving and sought to do so on a budget to test, at least in my context, the
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