I pitted AI against a much-loved 1963 gardening book to see what to do with my little corner of Ireland — here's what happened

To my surprise — because I am not that big on technology — I am finding artificial intelligence incredibly helpful when it comes to managing our modest bit of land. Claude, my chosen AI factotum, has already assisted me with — among other things — calculating the volume of gravel needed for the new drive, the best hedging option for the home field and how to espalier our young quince trees. The only drawback is that Claude makes me anxious. It flies in the face of my Protestant work ethic (I was raised to believe that anything worth having must involve a struggle), I fear it will affect my cognitive abilities and I loathe the idea of becoming even slightly reliant on a machine.

When, almost four decades ago, I started hobby (that is, on less than 1,000 acres) farming in Australia, my primary reference source was a Reader’s Digest book from 1981 called Back to Basics: How to learn and enjoy traditional American skills. Sometimes, less is more. The internet may offer almost unlimited information, but that book’s 464 pages are packed with practical, hands-on advice. There are chapters on everything from raising cattle to preserving produce, from pest control to growing vegetables. Its authors were also remarkably forward looking and covered such subjects as building with rammed earth (now very trendy) and how to harness solar power.

Intellectual types used to sneer at Reader’s Digest, but I am not ashamed to admit that I have rather a lot of the books, a good two dozen alone on gardens and gardening. The oldest of these, the three-volume Complete Library of the Garden bound with wooden covers, is as relevant today as it was when it was published in 1963. However, I probably refer most often, being of a rather lazy disposition, to The Time-Saving Garden, which delivers everything its title promises. Running my eyes over our library shelves, I can also see plenty of Reader’s Digest field guides, travel guides and cookery books.

Other subjects and interests are represented, too, including Who’s Famous in Your Family? (in our case, no one), Mysteries of the Unexplained (14 pages on spontaneous human combustion alone), Great Disasters (the Wrath of Nevado del Ruiz, A Demon Named Agnes, et al), Illustrated Reverse Dictionary: Find the words on the tip of your tongue (remarkably useful at my age), What to Do in an Emergency (how to escape from a burning sleeping bag and other useful tips) and a 1986 Driver’s Atlas, which I transferred from car to car until I finally caved in and started using GPS.

It has a wonderful section on identifying any unusual noises (‘loud knocking noises, light tinkling noises, mysterious tapping noises, ominous screeching noises…’) that your vehicle may make.

I never subscribed to the actual magazine itself, but my father, who, despite, or perhaps because of, a double first from Oxford, was extremely gullible, rang me in a state of excitement one day in the early 1980s to tell me that he had won the £100,000 Reader’s Digest sweepstake. Although annoyed later to discover that it was, in his words, ‘an appalling swizz’, he became one of their most devoted readers. Thank heavens he died before its decline and fall.

I suppose that is the real point. The only constant in life is, as Heraclitus pointed out, change. I may worry about using Claude, but Claude won’t be around forever. In the meantime, it might as well suggest ways to increase honey production from our beehives.