Quite a hard day in many ways, coming back into the world with a crash. There has been something incredibly peaceful about existing in that tiny box. The rain was almost completely constant so even going to the kitchen involved getting soaked, and the solar lighting in the kitchen had nothing to charge from so I could only cook with the little claws of gloom (the kitchen faces roughly North). For 3 days I mostly sat and thought, listened to the rain and the world. The wind brought different creatures. Somewhere not far from me were cattle but I only heard them twice. Once at night and late there were strange noises from the south. At dusk, because it is January, the humanish screams of vixens. It is fox-shagging season.
In the morning I woke and stoked the fire. A basic tidy and I was mostly already packed. A quick shower and back to the box to warm. Heavy rain still. Too dark to see in the kitchen just after dawn so I took a light and hard boiled my remaining eggs. Perfect.
Then walking and eating I squelched to the car. Getting up the path was an adventure. Too steep to move with weight in second gear, too waterlogged for the wheels to hold without skidding. Momentum. I got up without getting bogged and it might have looked like I was going too fast. Fiona would have shouted at me, but at least I didn’t get stuck.
Roads had turned into rivers there in rural Devon.
In the other direction there were bits of broken 4WD in the road. The grass on the verge was so soggy I had to get out and clear the road. I eventually got out. What a storm. What a rainy time we’ve had. And yet so many are still going to bury their heads in the sand about the fact that we are causing this to escalate, year on year as the ice caps melt. We’re lucky here in the UK, but a Cyclone came into Grouville just before Christmas and took off the roof of a house in my old road.
I drove back to the smoke and straight into human politics and crowded streets. Then I was exposed again to the messy aftermath of a hoarder. By evening I was fucked. Had to record a self tape so slung it together with Jack. I can’t speak for quality, we didn’t give it the time. We got it in, which counts for something.
Bed. I am so tired but it is a bed in a home with walls. Ahhhhh.
AlBarclay 