Recycling

What a hectic few days. On Thursday I went to see Lampedusa, a play about immigrants trying to get to this tiny Greek island in flimsy boats, as part of the High Tide Festival. Two friends and I perched on circular benches in the round tent on Aldeburgh beach with 77 other people, while the wind howled outside and sucked at the canvas walls. I sat next to a scruffy man who moved slightly to make room for me and then with his hand dried the wet mark his water bottle had made where I was to sit. I smiled at him and sat down, and we waited for the play to begin. And he was the star! Inches away from me, still seated, he played out the part of Stefano, the fisherman who daily pulls bodies out of the sea. Much of the time he stared at me as he spoke, and I stared back, utterly transfixed. After half an hour or so it was the turn of Denise (no relation) to sit there, and again I became part of the play as she directed her comments right into my face. It was a powerful play made more dramatic by the small venue and the proximity of the actors. But catastrophe struck half an hour before the end as a woman got up to leave and then collapsed in the doorway. Denise had to stop her stream of words as people rushed to help the woman, and I felt sorry for her and put my hand on her arm and said "What a shame. You are awesome." And she smiled without looking at me, trying, I realised, not to lose her place. When all was well again she resumed her role, and at the end the audience, all 80 of us, stamped and cheered. It was a brilliant play, acted with extraordinary pathos.

On Friday Sammy came over to help me empty the compost, a sturdy assembly of wooden pallets containing all the grass cuttings, fallen leaves and dead flowers amassed over a year. But as we forked and raked it all out it became apparent that this was going to be a massive job, and by 1pm we were both mildly shattered. We adjourned to the summerhouse with courgette quiche made earlier that morning by me, salad and new potatoes, and a lovely bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. As far as the work was concerned that was it. Neither of us could summon the energy to resume after lunch, and so we nattered until Sammy left mid afternoon and I promptly fell asleep. Anyway, under her direction I've now clered the space out completely and moved the pallets right to the back of the allotted area. I need two lots apparently, and today I had a spot of luck. In Woodbridge to look at trees, I stopped off in the town centre and spotted a pile of pallets beside a huge skip outside the furniture shop. They said I could have them, but they weighed a ton, so I waited on the road until a young man came along. I asked if he would help me in return for some cash, and he said he'd be happy to do it and needed no ;payment. Carefully he loaded the four of them into my boot, and I had to force him to accept a fiver for his pains. What a lovely person.

Massive heap of compost out of its bin

Bin put back on cleared land, waiting for return of compost

They're still in the back of the car. Why didn't I ask him to come back with me? Anyway, Sammy's pleased with my progress. She thinks I'm going to empty both compost bins out twice a year and give the contents a fork over before returning them. As I sit here with every muscle aching I can only think of one thing: dream on Sammy.