How to survive the apocalypse from the comfort of your own kitchen

Kyle Chapman wants to be mayor. Yeah, good
luck with that.

Every time there is an election, be it for local or central government, Kyle Chapman makes a $200 donation to the Electoral Commission. Strictly speaking this is a deposit that designed to weed out frivolous candidacy that the candidate will get back if they receive 25% of the votes of the eventual winner. Kyle Chapman is a good example that this doesn't necessarily work, but the Electoral Commission has his money and doesn't care. This year Kyle has decided to throw his hat in the ring for the Christchurch mayoralty and for a seat on the council in the Hagley-Ferrymead ward bringing to mind such phrases as 'pissing in the wind', 'a snowball's chance' 'about as likely as Elvis landing a UFO on top of the Loch Ness Monster's forehead' because Kyle, bless him, is a knob. The studious of you will have read his wikipedia page that states that he is the leader of the Right Wing Resistance and is a survivalist intent on creating a 'European land base'. Let's just think about that for a minute... survivalist... European land base. Kyle thinks that we are still one step away from oblivion and he and the other survivalists will be all that is left in a world that closely resembles Mad Max. If cockroaches and Kyle Chapman are all that are left, then I'll be glad to be dead. 

But then, I am going to survive the apocalypse. You see, I learned how to survive a nuclear, biological or chemical attack when I was in the Army. I also know how to purify water, build shelter, navigate through a minefield without being blown into purple mist and I learned to handle weaponry should Kyle and his mates come knocking. However, the real reason I am going to survive the apocalypse is because I can live off the land and make stuff in the kitchen. Well any fool can make stuff in the kitchen, even if it's toast you say. What happens when the bread runs out? I can bake more. Pasta? I can make that from scratch too. Other provisions I can turn my hand to and make from raw ingredients are sausages, beer, marmalade, pickled onions, chutney, fruit leather, in fact I am probably only limited by my imagination and the tools I have in my kitchen. My pantry is replete and when I open the door I smile. I get enormous satisfaction from making and consuming my own food, however this stops short of posting photographs of said food on facebook, although I have to confess to once taking a photo of some sausages I had braided simply because I was proud of myself and wanted the world to know how clever I was. 
A self-braided sausage is a beautiful thing. 
You ought to try it.

George and Michael deep in discussion about submitting a
name change by deed poll.
I suppose I could have called them Kyle and Chapman.

Further to my kitchen-based pottering, my flash new garden has more fruit trees than I could ever possibly handle once they are in fruit. Purely for my own edification, here is a shortlist: three apple trees, a pear, two limes, three lemons, three large feijoas, a nectarine, a peach, a quince, seven olives, a grapevine, a passionfruit vine, a papaya, three blackcurrants, boysenberry canes, two kiwifruit vines, a mandarin, a large strawberry bed, a cranberry and a cherry tree. What I don't make into cider will become jellies, jams, more marmalade and unwanted gifts for those unfortunate enough to know me.
It just so happens that there are extensive vegetable beds and we have a couple of new inmates in the form of hens named George and Michael. More birds will be arriving named Elton and John, Lionel and Ritchie (Yes I know that hens are female and those are all male names. We thought it would be funny and the hens have not framed a convincing argument illustrating their opposition to their monikers). It seems that Atilla the Wife and I didn't buy a house, we've inadvertently bought a very small farm (738m²) that happens to have a house on it. So come a nuclear armageddon and the resultant shriveling of the food supply, we'll be fine thank you very much and Kyle and his survivalists in North Canterbury can eat shit and die.