I stopped on the way to Goldfinch in the town of Cullompton. There’s a church there the was created by my great grandfather. I thought it worth seeing. Locked, it was, in the dusk. A dedicatory plaque on the outside. Clean walls and evidently still maintained and cared for. Ahhh my godly forebears. Direct line to a Saint, dontcha know. He even looks like me. Not one of the baddies either. Bartholomew de las casas.
I just stopped and looked at it in the dusk for a while. Let whatever energy needed to shift around in me to shift. New Year is coming. I’m going off grid.
Goldfinch is a tiny caravan on a hill in someone’s garden. I arrived in pouring rain. I drove down the steep rutted clay track. Bergman is HEAVY with the beer kegs. I didn’t think about how it would be getting back up.
I walked into the site in pitch blackness. Smoldering logs in the woodburner. I threw some more in.
It is not soft, but it is sweet. It’s in two parts. The caravan sits tiny with a bed and the burner, some basic shelves. It is all on decking. There’s a table outside and a firepit. Then a little shelter hitched up to gas. There’s a gas stove, and a shower. It is lit by solar so on a day like this it’s dark. There are two mugs : A badger and an owl. Both animals I have identified with over time. I’ll explore further tomorrow. I couldn’t find a thing tonight. It was pouring.
I don’t really know why I’m here, in the rain and the dark, no reception. I’ve downloaded 4 books on my Kindle for work in anticipation. Things to make. I think that’s part of it. The process of generating things from nothing. I might do this blog for free, but there are things that I might have to put into the world in a more deliberate fashion. This just drops off me as I’m running. Time to consider my input closer. I want to have something made by summer. Make use of these kegs.
My body clock has been weird lately. I wake with a shock at around 4am and don’t want to go back down. On days like this I’m sleepy by 8. It seems I’m somehow synchronised with the light, since Carol ended.
Still, you can’t stop me going after the finer things. I’ve booked a meal at The Arundell Arms as it is warm and has plugs. Everything is charging. Books are downloaded. Tomorrow I’ll be cooking in the woods but today I haven’t got food to cook. I’m not driving up that hill any more than I have to either. On the way out I chewed a fucking hole in it, and took a load of damage to the clutch. Bergie is too heavy right now to be trying to get up slopes like that.
AlBarclay 