Thursday. As yesterday I’m at Houghton Mill, now going downstream to St Ives by canoe.
Half a mile in, the heat is drowsing. I lie back in the canoe but, camera in lap, tell myself neither heron nor snake shall escape my lens. So do we seek to replay our yesterdays when freedom, a man I trusted told me, has no history.
But it is hot and I am so-o sleepy. I don headset for the sublime minimalism of Arvo Part.
Spiegel im Speigel. Mirror in the mirror.
And so to St Ives.
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Thanks so much Phil . For taking the trouble to send a cool green glimpse into a world away from handsanitisers and temperature checks! X
I know I’m extraordinarily privileged Ros. Retired, and increasingly introvert in my habits, all that stuff barely impinges. And since I write so much on the ugliness of the world, trips like this – and, almost as much, the writing up thereof – are essential to whatever semblance of sanity I may lay claim to x