Glasto to London

We woke up and watched the dawn at Glastonbury, rosy fingered, light creeping across the ancient hills. The ground was soft and lush as we stomped through long grass in boots and spotted some huge agaric mushrooms in a vast clump in the field like abandoned white balls from a distance, beautiful from close up. We took two for further analysis and possible munching. Not going to take more. Not until there’s a beyond positive ID and even then I’m unlikely to break my “three certainties before I eat it” rule. I am so glad we spent another night in those hills, staying in a hut and dug out of the side of a hill by a lovely man with no neck who makes hydroelectric dams when the world is working, and whose family seems to have left him a good chunk of the best part of Somerset. I’m glad he’s turning the land into places where hippy twats like myself can feel like we are connecting with nature as we trample the fields and rip up mushrooms with mobile phone in hand.

Then we drove back to Brighton, braving the horror of the BP garages in the North Downs where they shout at you if your door is open at the pump. Static electricity igniting the gas apparently. It happened over 170 times across the world in the last decade, although the bulk of those statistics are likely to have been in lightning storms. Nonetheless they shouted at three people in the course of the ten minutes we were there. Safety first.

As sunset was approaching we stopped and slogged up the hill to Chanctonbury Fell, to sit on a bank and connect with another glorious ancient bit of land. I still had half an eye out for mushrooms, but no luck. A beautiful stand of trees on top of a hill though. It’s so good to have wheels again, and be able to safely move around to different outdoor spaces. And to have like-minded company suddenly.

Now we are back at Lou’s. We are both exhausted. Loads of walking and for me, the drive as well. Who knows how I thought I’d do it yesterday. I’m thrilled that there was such a beautiful Airbnb available at short notice last night, and tonight it’s a familiar place and a takeaway curry. There’s road noise out the window but it feels like a homecoming. Tomorrow back to London and to the grind of the plates and antiques and preparing the flat for rental and sending stuff that sold on Ebay and life, but this has been a beautiful and powerful extended weekend. I’m ready to plug in again. But first one more lovely sleep by the sea.

Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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