Hunger strikes in Nantes   Picture the scene: it’s early in the
morning. The sun is shining and you’re sitting having your
breakfast, which happens to be a café au lait and a baguette
because, for the purposes of this exercise, you are French.
While you quietly contemplate some elaborate existentialist
theory (did I mention you’re French?), you notice the post drop
through the letterbox. One official looking letter drops to the
floor. You open it, cautiously…  Oh là là! What has fallen onto
your doormat is nothing less than a compulsory purchase order
for your farmstead! That’s right, the farmstead you’ve lived and
worked on for as long as you care to remember, the ground you’ve
tended to with your own bare hands, your past, your present,
your future… All of this is being taken from you. Stolen.
Demanded by a government which claims to represent you. And to
what end? In order that a multi-billion pound industry can build
a new runway over the top of it. Why, you ask? So that they can
increase their profit mar