My god damn kitchen flooded on Monday night. The garbage disposal over flowed and all the folks waste water from above us came through our sink, floor boards sodden in chicken water and grease. Thats how my week started. I suppose that’s life and you just have to keep on keeping on as best you can. But thats neither here or nor there and frankly nothing to do with my blogpost, but i needed to fill it out a wee bit.
Yesterday morning after breakfast we took a trip to Applecrest farm — the place we went apply picking at a few years ago…. for $30 dollars a bag i might add. Last time we went it was incredibly busy and not worth the hum because everything is terrible when theres too many people aimlessly walking and stopping abruptly for no reason other than to annoy the shit outta me. It was much nicer when it was quiet — like it was yesterday. Plus for the most part i got the long eared goats and sheep to myself. I’ve always wanted to have my own sheep so i could spin my own yarn and make REALLY beautiful happy sweaters from happy sheep. Maybe one day.
Another dream to add to the pile.
I dont know why this blog post comes across as hostile … it really was a lovely day and i had a huge waffle cone ice cream.. so, overall a success.
The ice cream did win though, that thing was the size of an elephant penis.
- Im not a very social person, and i dont make friends — and thats out of choice. (I’m pretty much the wittier version of Doc Martin) But in England lives my best friend whom i would often sit with in a little cafe by the seaside or somewhere in the rocky mess of Cheddar gorge, where we would eat ourselves full of cake till our belts needed new holes punched in. We would talk boats, erotic literature that was actually worth reading, sailing, different types of cakes, fish and chips and plan new trips to new places that would never become; but it was fun just the same to pretend we’d make it.
- Now, i am known to struggle from a common problem for expats — that feeling of loss of identity due to having lived everywhere and nowhere for so long. But if theres one memory that can make my heart warm and sad at the same time it’s seeing the first summer sun over the hills of Somerset.
- This one is hard to explain, but i miss a feeling of familiarity. I’ve been wandering so long now that i’ve completely forgotten what it feels like to stay put, create a plan and live what i call a “stock” life. Here in America, i’m the richest i’ve ever been in many-a-way and i’ve lived a million times over, something i would have completely missed out on — if i had stayed where i was. Having said that it doesn’t mean i don’t find myself missing parts of the past.
- I really miss jammie dodgers, jaffer cakes and pink lemonade lucozade… and in general being able to go into a shop and buy exactly what i’m craving like hobnobs and real chocolate digestives that aren’t out of date. I miss monster munch and niknak crisps too… milk ways. Oh how the list can go on and on and on.
- When i used to commute to Bristol for my boating jobs i remember cycling through sleepy Sand bay and Kewstoke as everyone slept.
Those muddy winter mornings with the mist clearing as the village wakes up were some of the most beautiful days i’ve seen in England, and there was magic between the trees.
- Bee’s buzzing in the garden and my cats trying to beat the ever living shit out of them. My big beautiful house full of ghosts and having my parents downstairs. All the cobs, ponies and horses caked in dirt on every corner and foxes screeching outside my window.
- Those late night walks on the beach where i ran bare foot through the rising tide as the stars above swung and shone. My hair like a lions mane in a wind tunnel. That beach was mine and we belonged to each other.
- The random crap on British TV and the British history.
- The early shift on the ferry boats in Bristol harbour when we would have to fuel up and the town wasn’t awake. The water traffic was just beginning to buzz, the water was smooth and the weather; airish.
- And, of course, sailing around the Bristol Channel with Pat showing me the ropes. I will probably never have those days again, and its only now — 6 years or so later that its starting to hit me. We’d sit and eat biscuits and again…talk about going to Papa’s for fish and chips. The best fish and chip place on the planet.