The Fallen~Sparrow~Hawk; Bog Myrtle

Bog Myrtle                                      February 24, 2002

Doon of May

Mi Na Lwl 2001

Bog Myrtle picked

On the waxing tide

Of the Holly time.

The above legend is written on the label of one of the demi-johns bubbling occasionally in fermentation around the cabin. The bouquet is surprisingly fruity, like a rich Shiraz; its’ taste is reminiscent of port; It’s gorgeous and I’m surrounded by the stuff!

This is a celebratory drink. The wind turbine was erected today around 5.pm! We, Brett, Alison, Jenny and myself, assembled propellers to tail fin and the whole thing slotted onto the end of a scaffold pole Alison had painted blue with a green band on the top. Brett fixed a bracket a tenth of the way down. To this bracket, the guy cables were fixed and once the pole was slotted in the hole bored into a tree stump the whole thing was made secure by huge metal pegs hammered deep into the ground east, south, north and west. An electric cable runs down from the wind turbine appearing through a hole drilled near the base of the scaffold. It looks like only days after my arrival my dream of staying here and working on my laptop will become reality.

I will have to get a fax and printer, fax paper and printing paper for the whole thing to be complete. Then I need work. Here it is free electricity off the national grid! I have free heat and fuel to cook; the only bill is the phone bill.

I feel healthy here. I can feel my muscles beginning to ache from the exertion of water collecting and wood chopping. Feeding the stove in winter is a constant; it has to be every half hour or so and I get through at least 6 or 7 logs a day. Thankfully, there’s a whole pine forest on the doorstep...

Alison and Brett are going into Stranraer tomorrow; I think I’ll stay; I don’t want to face a modern environment at the mo. I need a complete wind-down. When my check comes I’ll make a foray into Dumfries.

I felt Mark today. There was a moment when I pictured him in his restaurant. Maybe we are still connected. I don’t mind going down to London occasionally but only if my home is here. Then London will be easier to handle, less chaotic, more somewhere I dip in and out of.

The reality of interpreting; Dumfries, not too far. Stranraer, half hour away. Glasgow, two hours; Edinburgh, 4-5 hours; maybe too far. The odd job would put some money in the coffers, though it is suited to this place; One foot in the green environmentally caring world and the other caring. I must phone and confirm change of address. I will inform Temple Translation that I am in Scotland I pray that I may be able to earn here without a hitch. Hail wind turbine.

The book, The Specialist by Charles Sales, in the compost loo about a carpenter whose expertise is the construction of privies is very apt for the place I was reading it in. It is about a man advising a potential customer on the various reasons why a privy is in a given position, painted a particular colour, and why it has outward or inward swinging door, flat or lean-to roof; it has wonderful woodcut prints too.