Sid arrived early to set his traps, and it was such a beautiful morning, still and sunny, that I thought I'd take a walk straight away before heading off to London for a few days. First I had to hear Sid's woes, as always. "I bin bad," he started as usual. "Real bad. I'm on them anti-depressants, and I'm seeing a counsellor, but I have real bad days when I can't even get out of bed. I'm isolated in my mobie on the farm, and in this job you're on your own most of the time. I spose I'm not the only one." Well Sid, I thought, where shall I begin? Instead I sympathised while he told me the object of his love is clearly not interested, though she hasn't said as much, and he hasn't seen her for four months. Did I think she was just playing games, biding her time? His pills must have suddenly kicked in, because he flashed me a great big smile, the sun bouncing off his enormous tombstone teeth, and so startling was the effect that I took a few steps backwards. "I'm too sensitive, that's my trouble," he said sadly. "Most men would tell her to get stuffed, begging your prdon."
I set off when he'd gone, marching down and up and down the lane, admiring the bronzes shades of the oak trees, and the many berrries and bright red hips in the hedgerows. Does this all suggest a cold winter to come? Here in this village in its very rural setting all the seasons are equally welcome to me whatever their extremity. I haven't experienced a bitter winter yet, though I'm told the village was cut off a few years ago, huge drifts of snow making the lanes impassable for days. But I don't mind the prospect at all, as long as I have enough firewood and food stores. It was a bit chilly when I left the house but I soon warmed up and started peeling off the layers. I still had my bright blue fleece on when a horse-drawn vehicle approached from the top of the hill. At first I thought I was seeing things as it was motionless, and could easily have been a low overhanging branch. Then I realised the young mare had spotted me and was afraid, and Jenny her driver from Fiddler's Hall was gently urging her on. We chatted a bit, and I'd love to have hopped up beside her and toured the lanes behind the horse. But I had a train to catch, and had to get back. "Walk on!".
Last night was the Snape ushers' annual party, and what a merry crew we were. It was thrilling to hear Harry tell us of future plans re the continuing development of the Snape site with its massive, empty and probably now crumbling buildings associated with its previous life as a maltings. There is so much scope, so many ideas for future use. It really is an exciting place to be involved with (I know that should be "with which to be involved" - never end a sentence with a preposition - but it just don't read right). I ended the evening with Richard who told me about his life as a minimalist artist living in New York for 10 years. And he knew Agnes Martin before she went to New Mexico. Now that took me by surprise.
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