Today has been a day of tidying up, both physically and mentally, and of attempting to bring myself into better alignment with the task ahead. With my forthcoming writing project, I am increasingly realising that I must tune in to where people actually are, rather than where I think they should be, or where I would like them to be. There is a considerable difference. Unless I recognise this, I risk failing to connect with people and then becoming disappointed when they do not respond as enthusiastically as I had hoped.

My last two writing projects did not entirely fulfil my expectations, but I would not have missed either of them for the world. The experience gained was invaluable and could never have been acquired from reading books. It is one thing to have an idea, quite another to present it to people with different backgrounds, priorities and, in some cases, remarkably fixed attitudes. Some people welcome a new idea with open arms, while others seem to regard it as a personal threat to the established order. I have learnt that enthusiasm is not necessarily contagious, however much one might wish it to be. Sometimes the most useful thing one can do is listen, particularly when the other person is saying something one would rather not hear.

This time I am working in my own backyard, so to speak. Some might say, ‘Third time lucky,’ although I prefer to think that I am now a little wiser than I was when I started. The response to my Somer Valley community project has so far been encouraging, even if progress is not always as rapid as I would like.

Yesterday an advertisement for my diary in the Midsomer Norton and Radstock Journal appeared. So far, not a single response. Perhaps the entire population was too busy reading the other advertisements, or perhaps people need to see something several times before it registers. I shall resist the temptation to interpret silence as rejection. After all, a seed does not germinate simply because one stands over it demanding results.

Speaking of seeds, I rose early again this morning to continue work on my allotment. For reasons I cannot entirely explain, this particular plot excites me far more than my previous one. I never really connected with the old allotment. There was nothing especially wrong with it, but somehow we never established a relationship. This new one is larger, requires considerably more effort and presents a formidable collection of weeds, yet I find myself positively looking forward to working on it.

I spent a couple of hours turning over the soil, removing the worst of the bindweed and doing my best not to cut innocent earthworms in half. There is something faintly absurd about a human being attacking the soil with a large metal implement while trying to protect its smallest inhabitants. The worms, of course, have been doing a perfectly good job of cultivating the ground without any assistance from me. Bindweed is another matter. It seems to possess an almost supernatural determination to survive, and I suspect that every fragment of root I overlook will return next spring with several of its relatives.

The rest of the day was largely devoted to tidying up my thoughts and preparing for the considerable data collection exercise that lies ahead. The essence of my new project is simple enough. I want to identify as many local organisations as possible, large and small, and bring them together in a printed welcoming guide and an easily accessible website. The information should not merely be accurate. It should be attractive, approachable and, above all, a pleasure to explore. There is little point in producing a comprehensive directory if reading it feels like consulting the telephone book.

I am particularly interested in the newcomer to the area. Imagine arriving in Midsomer Norton, Radstock or Paulton without knowing a living soul. You may have moved for work, retirement, family reasons or simply because you fancied a change. You unpack your belongings, arrange the furniture, make a cup of tea and then wonder what on earth you are going to do with yourself. Where are the clubs, the choirs, the gardening groups, the churches, the social gatherings and the opportunities to volunteer? Who are the people you might enjoy meeting, and how do you find them?

My ambition is that after an hour browsing the guide or website, such a person will have a good idea of what is available locally and, more importantly, will feel encouraged to take the first step. A town should not require newcomers to spend six months discovering what its established residents already know. Surely we can devise a more civilised method of introducing people to one another.

I have also been thinking about those who are not newcomers but who, for one reason or another, find themselves on the margins of community life. The recently divorced or separated, the bereaved, those who have retired and lost their daily social contacts, and people whose circumstances have changed unexpectedly. If we take a population of approximately 45,000 across the wider Midsomer Norton, Radstock and Paulton area, and suppose that just five per cent are experiencing some form of social disconnection, that represents more than 2,000 people. It is only an illustrative calculation, not a measured statistic, but it gives some idea of the potential scale.

These are not necessarily people who need looking after. Quite the reverse. Many will have considerable skills, experience, humour, kindness and energy to contribute. They could enrich almost any organisation they joined. Yet something prevents them from taking that first step. It might be grief, a loss of confidence, a previous unpleasant experience or simply not knowing where to begin. Sometimes the distance between isolation and companionship is no greater than the courage required to walk through an unfamiliar door.

I find it extraordinary that so many towns and villages, never mind cities, have no organised way of introducing people to the life of their community. We welcome people into workplaces, schools and voluntary organisations, yet when someone moves into a new area, they are largely left to their own devices. With a little imagination, community induction could become as normal as registering with a doctor or finding out when the rubbish is collected.

I am not suggesting that a directory will cure loneliness or solve the many mental health difficulties that affect people in our increasingly stressful society. That would be a rather grand claim for a modest publication. But it might remove one unnecessary obstacle. If we can make it easier for people to discover opportunities for friendship, companionship and useful activity, we may achieve something worthwhile. Sometimes small interventions have consequences far beyond their apparent importance.

Later I attended the community meal organised by Bath Community Kitchen (see last week’s diary entry)  and had another conversation with Rob, who was instrumental in establishing the meals. I suggested that we should meet again so that I could benefit from his knowledge of local organisations and make sure I was not overlooking groups that deserve inclusion. People like Rob are particularly valuable because they are already doing something practical rather than merely discussing what ought to be done. There is a great deal of goodwill in our communities, but it is often scattered about in small pockets, with one group having little knowledge of another.

This brings to mind Small Is Beautiful, the book by E. F. Schumacher. Its central argument, as I understand it, is that human scale matters and that bigger is not necessarily better. I find myself increasingly sympathetic to this view. A modest weekly gathering of half a dozen people may make a greater difference to someone’s life than a large organisation with an impressive website and a committee of twenty. Indeed, one of my objectives is to give the smallest groups the same opportunity to be discovered as the largest. A gathering does not have to be grand to be important.

I also remind myself that the success of this project should not be measured solely by the number of books distributed, website visits recorded or organisations listed. Those things matter, of course, but they are means rather than ends. If one person discovers a choir, another finds a gardening group, and someone who has spent too many evenings alone begins looking forward to Thursday afternoons, then something of real value has been accomplished. The difficulty is that such results are not easily counted. Perhaps the most important things in life rarely are.

So another lively and productive day comes to an end. The weather continues to bless us with conditions almost tailor-made for walking and outdoor work: neither too warm nor too cold, with just enough breeze to remind us that the air is still moving. I have soil under my fingernails, more names to collect than I care to contemplate, and a project that is gradually beginning to take shape.

There is a curious parallel