Last airstream night

This time we lit the fire much earlier.

The sun went down about half an hour ago and still in the air to the west there’s the last of its memory. But it’s before 9pm and already we’re plunged into darkness. The owls called in the change.

The day was overcast but the night is clear now. Venus is up and to my left, the plough (aka big dipper) is right overhead. Both clear tonight with the moon pushing to new. Maybe tomorrow there’ll be sun.

Lou and I are sitting staring into the fire pit and listening to the river behind us, to that guy with a motorbike, to the night birds and the bats, to the wind. Only one more night here and then tomorrow we roll back and plug into the world again. This morning though we woke with peace all around us.

About half an hour ago I grilled some halloumi on the fire. I would’ve put some mushrooms with it had I found some I was confident about. Just a few Russula that didn’t ring any alarm bells. Even so they are still sitting on the table outside the airstream and they won’t go in my belly. I’ve got to record a self tape tomorrow and I can’t do that easily with a dicky tummy. Plus I’ve got my three strikes rule and this wouldn’t even be strike one. I haven’t a fucking clue what they are. Still, this is really really fecund woodland here, and it doesn’t feel like there’s a local shroomer to pluck all the goodies. I’ve ticked off a good few numbers in my system. If I can get out into nature again this season I’m likely to start being able to bring home some interesting things.

Lou is sitting beside me. “The stars are getting clearer,” she says and I look up and yes, since I’ve been writing we’ve lost the last of the sun and now here we sit with the embers of the fire and this bright canopy of constellations crowning the sky above us. One more night. It would be nice to just live here for a little bit, but the world is clinging onto me. My agent rang me today. I’m still learning these bloody lines for taping tomorrow. I’ll be back in London before I know it…

Best enjoy this last night here in Pearl the Flying Cloud.

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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