How Generation Soil Began

Every project begins somewhere.

Generation Soil began with a series of small observations about food, soil, and the systems that quietly shape our daily lives.

It didn’t start with compost infrastructure or a detailed strategy for regenerative food systems.

It started with questions.

And with my granddad.

He was one of the kindest people I’ve known. Gentle, thoughtful, and deeply connected to the natural world. He loved gardening, walking, and spending time outdoors. He played sports and regularly went hiking with friends well into later life.

Watching him gradually decline due to Alzheimer’s disease was difficult.

Experiences like that rarely provide answers, but they often spark questions that stay with you for years. Questions about ageing, about health, and about the environments we spend our lives in.

Those questions quietly followed me for a long time. Below is a picture of me crouching next to the pond my grandad built, holding a pear from one of the trees he planted. I used to spend hours in the summer just watching the pond life.

Trying to Cosplay as a 21st-Century Human

Looking back, my time at school was mostly positive, although I did struggle with early mornings and sitting indoors for long stretches while teachers guided us through a fairly regimented education system.

It’s an efficient way of guiding large numbers of students through a shared curriculum. But the way success is measured clearly suits certain types of learners more than others.

I remember sitting in English lessons, wondering why there were so many rules around grammar, and in maths lessons, questioning when I might ever use the quadratic formula in real life.

For the record, I still haven’t.

The subjects I did enjoy most were geography, biology and sports studies. Those became the A-levels I chose, and, interestingly, they’ve also proven the most useful since then.

Although I will admit that a little more numerical literacy might have helped. My bank account would probably agree.

On my journey of trying to cosplay as a 21st-century human being, I moved from the green fields of Wiltshire to the city to study at university.

Drifting Through Modern Life

Like many people, I drifted.

For nearly a decade, I spent much of my time escaping rather than engaging. That meant going to the pub, spending long stretches playing video games, and eating plenty of food that probably wasn’t doing me many favours.

At the time, it felt normal.

It was what many people around me were doing.

But gradually, I began noticing changes in how I felt day to day. My memory didn’t feel as sharp as it once had. I often felt mentally foggy and generally low on energy.

Eventually, I realised something needed to change.

Not dramatically, and not all at once, but gradually.

Becoming a “Food Ambassador”

After university, I decided to try what many people would call getting a proper job.

I joined a graduate scheme and was given the impressive-sounding title of Food Ambassador.

In practice, my role involved visiting around fifty schools across East Sussex and running food-related activities with pupils and parents.

I organised lunchtime engagement sessions, attended parents’ evenings, and delivered food education workshops.

The workshop side of the role was genuinely enjoyable. Talking to children about food, where it comes from, and how it connects to land and growing felt meaningful.

I was fortunate to have a garden at home growing up. My dad grew vegetables, and my mum cooked them in the kitchen, so food always had a fairly tangible connection to soil and seasons.

But there was also something about the role that didn’t quite sit comfortably with me.

Ultimately, my main objective was simple.

Increase the sales of school dinners.

In other words, I had become a school dinner salesman for one of the world’s largest multinational catering companies. It was a far cry from the blissful childhood existence of feeding the ducks.

What I Learned Visiting Schools

One positive aspect of the job was that I was given the freedom to design a sustainability workshop.

The workshop focused on the large amount of single-use plastic commonly found in packed lunches.

Many lunchboxes contained individually wrapped snacks and multiple layers of packaging, which had become completely normal within school food environments.

Something else stood out during my visits.

Food waste.

Every day, large quantities of food were scraped into bins.

Feeding hundreds of young, often picky eaters five days a week is not an easy task, and school catering teams work hard to make it happen.

But it was still striking to see how much food left the dining hall only to disappear into waste systems.

A Pause That Created Space

After about six months in the job, the COVID-19 pandemic arrived, and I was furloughed.

Like many people during that period, I suddenly found myself with far more time to think than usual.

I moved back in with my parents and began exploring ideas that had been quietly forming in my mind for years.

Food systems.

Waste.

Soil.

Where nutrients actually go once food leaves our kitchens.

Around the same time, I was also experimenting with entrepreneurship. I wanted to put the skills I developed from flogging second-hand clothes and phones to my greatest passions: food and nature.

Financially speaking, entrepreneurship does not necessarily pay very well.

But it does offer something extremely valuable.

Freedom.

Freedom to decide what kind of work you want to spend your time on.

Discovering Soil

One of the ideas that kept drawing my attention was soil.

The more I learned about soil biology, the more fascinating it became.

Healthy soil is not just a material plants grow in.

It is a living system full of microbes, fungi, insects and countless other organisms interacting over time.

Then a simple idea began to take shape.

Food waste does not have to disappear into distant systems.

It can remain close to where it was produced.

It can be composted carefully and returned to soil within the same community.

And when that happens, people can see and participate in the process rather than remaining disconnected from it.

The Beginning of Generation Soil

That idea eventually grew into Generation Soil.

Generation Soil works at a community scale to keep food waste local and turn it into living compost that returns to soil within the same city.

Instead of focusing only on waste disposal, the focus is on:

• soil biology

• regenerative soil

• local nutrient loops

• participation and learning through practice.

People don’t just hear about compost.

They work with it.

Food waste from kitchens becomes compost.

Compost returns to gardens, allotments and growing spaces.

And the cycle becomes visible again.

Small Loops, Close to Home

Modern food systems are complex, and many different approaches are needed to manage food waste.

Municipal collections and large-scale processing systems play an important role.

Generation Soil works alongside these systems, but at a different scale and with different goals.

The aim is simple:

Keep nutrients local.

Support regenerative soil.

Make it possible for people to participate in the systems that sustain food.

Sometimes that participation begins with something very small.

A bucket of food waste.

A handful of compost.

Or a stick of rhubarb traded at an allotment in exchange for wood shavings for someone’s compost pile.

Small loops, repeated many times, can quietly rebuild the relationship between kitchens, soil and communities.

And that is the work Generation Soil is continuing to explore.

If You’re Curious to See It in Practice

If you’re based in Bristol and want to see how community-scale composting works in practice, you can learn more about the Bristol Living Compost Project, where food waste from households is transformed into living compost that returns to soil within the city.

Participation is simple.

And like most regenerative systems, it begins with something very small.

A bucket.

And some food scraps.