q u i e t

990211.0041 tamarisk farm , st agnes

just got back from the turk’s head . i arrived there about quarter to nine to find it deserted . no sign even of the landlord . i spent a while examining the maps , photographs and memorabilia . then the landlord emerged ( like the shopkeeper in mr ben , as if by magic ) and i introduced myself . gradually others arrived and we coalesced into two teams for the quiz . it was demanding stuff , i must say , but happily i was on the victorious side . met quite a few people and was required to explain what i was up to for several of them . after a couple of pints i probably said more than i would have chosen , but heck that’s what pubs are for . i liked the people i met .

walking to and from the pub , maybe quarter of an hour’s leisurely stride , i was reminded as i always am how little experience of true darkness we have in the modern world . here there are no street lamps and virtually no light pollution . even though it is a clear night and my night vision is pretty good i was barely able to distinguish the concrete road . one is very conscious of the sweeping beams islands’ three main operating lighthouses , though they are all many miles distant . the bishop’s rock light is the most visible , seven miles away , a remarkable feet of early victorian engineering .

the wind has dropped , the temperature has risen a degree or two ( my breath no longer condenses before me as i write ) and a gentle rain falls sporadically .

miles davis’ < circle in the round > on the stereo . green tea in the pot . a couple of letters to write then bed for me .

thank you for sharing my journey . goodnight .

: cH

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