The worm may have turned. Spent this morning wriggling into wellies, waterproof over trousers and horrible, smelly waxed coat while attempting to dig out and clear a huge sludge-filled trench behind the garage. Absolutely disgusting.
It was too much for me. Tried with big and medium spades but scarcely made inroads into the revolting, solidifying red mud.
Then the rain came down on me and then it progressed to hail when I was walking the dogs. The only redeeming feature of the walk was listening to Margaret Atwoods “Testaments” on talking books. Spellbinding even when being pelted with hailstones and worthy winner of Booker.
Most frightful, and surprising thought has occcurred as of last 10 days or so. Keep suppressing and swatting away but it buzzes up again. I may actually to want to defect. As in leave the River Loft and this County- the place I dreamed of moving to for so many years. Shhhh don’t tell anyone. Only you, reader can be made aware of this heresy. Could be temporary – a black dog point/ lowest ebb thing but despite every effort truth is I have failed to make real friends in the past 3 years and well. . when I drove into our street today and saw “for sale” on adjoining property I was frankly and most unexpectedly struck by a thunderbolt of envy. Lucky you escaping the revolting mud, muck and vermin and legging it back to civilisation,(viz the southeast ) I thought.
The River Files 