The Last Weekend

It feels like the end of summer. The British weather is unpredictable at best, so it's not so much about temperature, or rain, but a change in the light. It is that shift in seasons that creeps up that we only feel when it is upon us.

I was camping this weekend with old friends. As the boys went to collect more kindling for the fire, I sat by the loch looking over the hills at the low sun and the rain closer than before.

I love this stirring in the seasons and the light. I look forward to the change that will come with autumn.

We walked in the late summer sunshine, with the odd shower at our backs, high above the loch. After two months of my mother's limbs regaining their strength, mine have been losing theirs. My old back and hip aches returning, caused by hospital visiting instead of exercising. As we walked I could feel my joints loosening and muscles working. The freedom of our land and air challenging my body. Steps towards being more powerful again. I will walk through the autumn.

Wild camping is a wonderful privilege in a country which supports outdoor access. There is a national park an hour from my home, where informal camp sites are well used and tolerated by the rangers as long as we are respectful of these places. We spent two nights with sunshine, violent wind, drizzle and heavy rain all at play.

It is easy to be quiet in this place, and with three men who are happy to share silence as much as chatter.

Yesterday morning I woke first. I sat sheltering from the rain, listening to the Canada geese, reading and drinking coffee made on my little stove. The light coloured front section of my tent is quite transparent as the rain runs from the canvas. I love the simplicity of this. I love watching the water turn into little rivulets. I love that such uncomplicated constructions – when was the first first tent made? How many centuries ago? - can protect us from the elements and can be bundled on to our backs. Fabric and modern day sticks, that's all.

I am glad of this weekend. I have missed much of this summer and am glad to see it out.

Cabin Fever

The low winter sun and snow are driving my urge for fresh clean air, to stretch my legs and find some space. I feel rather like a polar bear in the zoo this week. Sadly, the dodgy roads mean going anywhere far is out of the question, and no one else seems to be game for embracing the cold. Taking myself off on my own is not a safe option, particularly as I tend to be a fair weather walker and driving is bad.


When everything is so tantalisingly beautiful I just want to be out there somewhere.

It strengthens my conviction that this city won't be my home forever. I make the most of being here, enjoying the music, food, people, life that is on offer but it all feels very temporary. I dream instead of a different existence. I would like to be in a more rural setting and have easier access to the outdoors. Although I'm a city girl, born and bred, I have spent periods of time living and working in very rural areas. I don't have in my head some idyllic view of life in the country, I know it's not all strawberry jam and lovely neighbours. But, given the choice between the benefits and pitfalls of city vs rural/small town, I would love the opportunity to be elsewhere. In the meantime, I will do my best to escape when I can and enjoy what is offer under my feet.

A daily ritual

Most mornings I stand eating my breakfast and look out the kitchen window. I love watching the birds. I wish I knew more about them.

I would love one of those clear plastic feeders that stick to windows, but I haven't been able to find one. I'd love to be able to see the small birds up close. Feed and water them, watch them. They fascinate me. Even the smallest, plainest little brown creatures are beautiful in their weightlessness and grace.

I would love to be able to fly.

When I die, if my soul carries on, let it be a bird.