i sit here in an armchair . embers glowing in the grate , emiting an occasional snap . otherwise it is silent , except for the uneven beat of the ancient grandfather clock standing in the hall . the sitting room of my parents’ house . we moved here from cornwall when i was seventeen .
the walls bear testament to a love of that county . screen prints and engravings of favourite places . amongst these , three depict the islands . they were bought from helena wakeham’s studio on st mary’s one easter when i was in the islands with my parents . that must have been twelve years ago . helena and her husband humfrey still live there , looking out across the sound . humfrey is a potter , prodigious mead brewer and chairman of the islands’ environmental trust . i visited him with my friend gaz in the summer and got so pissed that i left my headphones in his studio . they’re still there , waiting for me to pick them up . soon now , soon .
everything worked out ok last night . i met the people from sony in a soho pub . some interesting possilities . then christian came round , helped me dismantle my futon and shared a final spliff in my room . it took me a while to remember where i’d left the van , so we had a pleasant wander round the back streets of kentish town . eventually we located it and took the furniture up to hampstead . then it was time for the big hit . matt came round and helped me load the bigger pieces , then i carried on alone . at half past five i left the house , locked the front door and was ready to go .
it was a clear drive . i had my minidisc recording for the first few minutes . seemed like an important thing to document . i was crossing the cotswolds by the time it started getting lighter .
i arrived here just before eight , passing my father on his way to work as i bumped along the muddy lane .
now i must start making detailed arrangements for the next leg of the journey . mum might come down to cornwall with me . i hope to see my sister anna , who moved back to the county with her husband adam .