The podcasting legend and comedian on moving to the countryside, embracing change, and finding humour in serious conversations.
When my wife said she wanted a third child, my bargaining chip was moving to the countryside. It coincided with a few anxieties about my career, being a good Dad, and whether my kids would end up dealing crack in London. So we moved to Norfolk where there would be more space and a shed for me to fuck around in.
Getting a dog three years after moving was a game-changer. I specifically remember telling my wife I was not going to be the one to take Rosie for walks, but of course I ended up being the primary walker. And as we explored, I would record these therapeutic monologues on my phone - half to Rosie and half to myself - which led to the idea of framing a podcast.
This wasn’t my first time in the countryside. I’d grown up in South Wales as one of those seven year olds who would head off on their own, doing all the things they were told not to - like crawling down pipes and running through hay bales. As a teenager in London, that exploration became the second hand shops of the West End and watching movies with my best friend Joe. But there’s something else about being in nature.
So much of what I do is sitting here in my nutty room, staring at a computer screen. When work gets on top of me, it’s always good to get out. Reset. Even if I’m looking at the same tracks and trees and fields - the variety is infinite. The weather, the sunsets, the clouds. When I get to the high fields and look at the vast sky, it’s like being in a fricking IMAX.
As accessible as the countryside is to me, I am ashamed of my ignorance. I just can’t absorb it! I look up the names of plants and birds and trees all the time and the only one I remember is blackthorn. It’s the only thing I can identify after a decade of living out here. Ask me something about indie bands; no problem. I’ll tell you the names of all the drummers on their albums. That information is efficiently filed away in my brain ready at a moment's notice. But animals and trees are a total mystery zone.
But I think that’s ok. I read about this thing called soft fascination. Because nature is so complex, detailed, and ever-changing, going out for a walk puts you in a constant state of happy distraction and fascination. It resets the circuits. And that’s what nature is to me. What’s the difference between a crow, a corvid, or a rook? Does it matter if you’re still appreciating it?
It’s not a news programme, it’s not balanced. It’s filtered through my view of the world.
As much as I love nature, when it comes to climate change, I mainly feel horribly under-qualified to be having conversations about it. I’m focused on ridiculous things and my stupid world of comedy. It’s about being trivial and silly - glancingly intersecting with serious topics.
When I was on social media I was aware that people got shot down for not being sufficiently across subjects they were speaking about. Weirdly, being wishy washy is a worse crime than saying something people can solidly be against. People like me are seen as part of the problem. “This is too important to say something dopey - shit or get off the pot!”
On the podcast, we don’t get into politics too deeply. When I have guests who express strong political or cultural views, some listeners expect me to provide a balanced opposing perspective. But that’s not the point of my podcast. It’s not a news programme, it’s not balanced. It’s filtered through my view of the world.
But we do have these major issues and existential crises. I don’t always understand the complexities, but I am interested in ideas and ways to make the world a better place. It’s such a tricky balance. I also don’t want to avoid them completely. I have a concern that I become a “useful idiot”, giving an agenda a platform without properly interrogating it. But I’d rather shamble around and get it wrong occasionally than phase out important discussions entirely.
I know the podcast would be more successful if I stuck to light, fun conversations with comedians and avoided heavier topics. Maybe a bit of mental health chat now and again, but not get political. It would be easier! But I can’t in good conscience do that.
When I get to the high fields and look at the vast sky, it’s like being in a fricking IMAX.
When it comes to climate change, I don’t respond to two people telling us how fucked we are. Personally, I’ve got the “we’re fucked message”. I appreciate a lot of people haven’t and we still need those to remind them - this isn’t climate change, it’s a climate emergency. But I want to hear more about solutions, and adaptation, and how we go forward.
The conversation means different things to different people, but I don’t know many people who are just digging their heels in and refusing to do anything to help. That being said, people fear change and I count myself in that category. It’s not nice and I don’t like change. I have a desire for a cushy, simple life and a reliable routine. The older you get, any change to that routine is so unappealing, boring, and unattractive.
But every time I have made a change, I feel better. I struggle to think of any change I’ve made I regret. I can’t believe how much meat I used to eat, we’ve got our photo-voltaics, we've got air source this and ground source that. It’s a change, but you do it, and then you feel better, in every conceivable way. At least I do.
And while I appreciate that a lot of people don’t have wiggle room to make changes, that they have to drive a shitty car to work or can’t afford to get a new boiler, there’s plenty more I could probably make. When I told my wife I was going to have George Monbiot on the podcast she said, “fucking hell, he’s not coming round here is he!?” because there are loads of things we could improve. There are those times when I think, fuck it, I’m just going to buy this thing because I want it! And then I think, “Oh no, I’ve let George Monbiot down.”
So it’s in my nature to want a positive message within these sorts of conversations. This morning I was reading about these cities that have eliminated cars from their centres, and how better life is now in all sorts of different ways. These examples of life being transformed, I really like them, because those are the conversations that get people used to the idea of change instead of the fear of change.
I get it. Life is difficult in all sorts of ways. Inconvenience hurts. Whether it’s dealing with your bank or getting a plumber out. Those things really put a dent in your day. So extra change is just an extra pain in the arse. But once you get over that hurdle, you realise what you fear is just the idea of what a pain in the arse it might be, and once you’ve made a change, you can’t imagine what life was like before.
As told to Edward Owen-Burge on 13 June 2024. This conversation was edited & condensed for clarity.
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Adam's podcast "The Adam Buxton Podcast" can be download on all major platforms.
His wesbite can be found at https://www.adam-buxton.co.uk/
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