It’s a couple of minutes to 4pm. I’m sitting on a wooden bench outside a converted barn in Hereford. My hands smell of Florida Water and my hair smells of palo santo. Over the fields I can see a little church spire, and beyond that the rolling hills of Wales. It’s sacred country out here, lush and ancient. It only took four hours from London, and just as I arrived I got an email telling me that the A1 form rejection I had from the government means that I’m gonna have to do some complicated bureaucratic gymnastics before I get paid for France. On a normal day it would make me feel my usual combination of sick and powerless, such as I have grown accustomed to. As it is I’m dropping the need to care, for now, so I can go do some healing. Medicine won’t solve bureaucracy, but maybe postmedicineAl can.
Loads of people here. We are very tightly packed. I’ve brought some objects of significance but I’ve had to organise things very tightly in my little space. A tiny airbed, a duvet, things to contemplate. People have come from all over. Liverpool. Bournemouth. Estonia. I thought I had a schlep coming up from London with two passengers.
I have a feeling it’ll all kick off soon and I know I won’t be wanting to write anything once we are go, so I’m here now, taking my mind off the fact I’m hungry. No food today but for a few slices of mango. I was looking longingly at blackberries just now. Before long there’ll be a taste in my mouth like nothing on earth.
Nature and space, here. The air is moving but there’s sun. Apparently there might be a storm later which will be interesting if it develops. For now just late summer and the sound of small talk.
I’ve got myself here, got over myself to get here, know what I’m here for. The unknown is still a big thing to contemplate. I think I’ll sort out water, make out my mattress is inflated, do the admin things and then get stuck back into the intentions and all the oojiebojie crap that has got me here.
Invoices will come good one way or another. What an absolute ballache that’ll be. But that’s not for today-Al…
AlBarclay 