The first time I went to a commune, it was after an awful fight with a boyfriend. It was at the tail end of one of those drunken, glittery teenage nights and I was, of course, absolutely devastated. So when my friend Rowan suggested we visit the place he grew up – a commune in the heart of Sussex – I was thrilled at the idea of a distraction.

It was a gorgeous day, and we crossed a river and walked over a field of swaying grasses until the commune rose onto the skyline. Named Old Hall, it houses around 60 people in self-contained units and has 65 acres of farmland, making them almost self-sufficient. Rowan showed us around, pointing out a treehouse, the communal kitchen with a roster of who was handling which meals, and a toilet system which saved your wee to use as fertiliser.