Monday, 6 March 2006

Syd Barrett

Slowly the signs of spring are showing; the sun, when it shines, has some heat too it and quickly melts away the night’s snow. It’s noticeably lighter longer and yet I still find that when it gets dark I want to sleep even if it is by 7pm. I wake up at the very beginning of first light but somehow always manage to get back to sleep again; it is as though I am hibernating sometimes. The shoots on the Hazel and the elder are a little bigger than last weekend; those green shoots that were popping out last week are also a little bigger. I’m not sure but it seems that the Owls are getting frisky; they are certainly making a lot more noise now.

I forgot I seem to have a pet mouse; he lives under my bed and eats bits of carrot and bread crumbs. I use the space between the branches I use as a bed as a fridge and keep milk there and have a tin in which to store butter and cheese – no mouse is getting in there. I got home on Friday evening and looked into the fridge to pull out some milk for tea and there frozen in the light was a tiny mouse, I don’t know why I call him Gerald. One thing I have noticed about using the gaps between the branches I use for a bed as a fridge is that its not necessarily the best place to store eggs, on the bright side though one survived. On Sunday morning then I had a boiled egg for breakfast and then roasted a chicken in the earth oven. Though I say so myself it was cooked to perfection. About mid-day on Sunday I went for a walk, really apreciating the weather, it was one of those clear winter days with a bright blue sky and little fluffy clouds. Everything was good.

Having learnt the lesson last weekend that not buying enough food is a bad thing this Friday on my way home I bought loads. Far too much as it turns out, I was expecting visitors though so I thought I would be able to palm some of it off on them. Far from it, two of them brought food with them. The third declared that he could not possibly eat my food as he was worried I might run out. I have perfected the art of baked potatoes, they are so much nicer cooked in the fire than any other way – absolutely delicious. Rubbed with olive oil and salt to help the skins crisp and then buried under the fire and served with butter, strong cheddar and freshly cracked black pepper. So good. I think tonight I shall have chicken stew, I’ll make a stock out of the bones left over from Sunday and add bung in loads of vegetables.

2 comments:

fjl said...

In all I think this will always stay with you, this experience, and you'll be far less inclined to panick at the threat of the loss of home comforts than others. People, whole societies, are manipulated into acquiescence by the threat of the loss of their creature comforts, and fear of loneliness. Perhaps yours is the way forward. Perhaps we should all be initiated into a new sociey in this way.
Sickert certainly wasn't afraid of it. ;-) And good heavens, what he goes for now. ( It makes me sad. I should so love 'Putana a Casa'.)

nir said...

You're making me hungry and want to come for dinner.