Birds

I woke up to the sound of them screaming and screeching. Every fifteen minutes a flutter of wings and hoots rings out across the farm.

The owners installed a "bird scarer " ; an electronic recording of birds freaking out and flying away. It's a  21st century scare crow and it's damn weird.

Evolution

Seriously, what is up with tickling.

Appreciation

After living on rice and tinned tuna for a month, steak tastes amazing. Better than ever before. Smoked salmon is a dream. Brie is a birthday cake.

I don't want to ever forget how good all the usual things are.

(Written mid Christmas break)

Christmas for the Godless

I'm told Christmas is meant to be a little different when you don't think the Christian god is real, or when you're not compelled to celebrate the birth of a child that he implanted a virgin. Personally, I see it a little differently. The stories are all there, like when you're a kid and the floor is lava; it's a game full of charm and wonder. I'll just stop playing when I go back to work on Monday.

For this Christmas I will be drawing on a wild variety of traditions, instead of just Christian. I'll celebrate it around the winter solstice like Orisis, an Egyptian god who battled evil, died and is now judge of the dead. I'll probably have a feast and "Yule" celebration like the Germanic pagans did too. I'll even have a Nordic tree, and decorate it like the Romans would have for fertility. I'll swop gifts like at the Saturnalia, and might squeeze in Coca-Cola's red Santa Claus. Eventually we'll celebrate the famous mother and child from the 3,000BC to 400AD Greko-Roman world, Isis and Horus.

I know it sounds messy to work so many together, but I'm going to try. Anyone with me?

Travel

They always look at you funny when you have a guitar slung over your back with no case. I think they're just in awe of how awesome it looks. These guys let me take it on, so after shuffling past people in the aisle and waiting for a lady to spend forever sorting her bag, I find two empty seats and make sure she's (the guitar) seatbelted comfortably in beside me. The "in-flight" movie is Tron, (soundtrack by Daft Punk). There is a toilet, but no one will use it.

After a mid morning transfer to a train, I settle down again, reading occasionally, dosing fitfully. I've been travelling for 24 hours now, awake for about 30, and have the sharp situational awareness that only comes from sleep deprivation. Rustling bags arouse attention. Voices in conversation, voices in urgency, voices blending together. A clock flicks another number on a platform. An inspector ambled past.

The weather has been dank for a few days and there's a misty blanket of rain across the countryside that makes the mountains farther away look like ghosts. Water trickels down the window, dragged backward by the speed of the train. Under the rain, everything green nearby looks greener, browns darker. The roads reflect the sky and shapes.

I am passenger 73591 and these commuters don't know how far I've come, but they can probably guess.

Swallows and Amazons

I remember it being read to me as a child, and I remember remembering it when I lived it, mucking about in boats, building little piers with secret entrances. I remember landing on islands and climbing around old ruins.

In many ways, my dad had the same attitude as the dad in that book. It's been fairly defining and probably why I got to do everything I really wanted as a kid. It's summed up in the telegram the kids get when they ask for permission to go exploring.

BETTER DROWNED THAN DUFFERS, IF NOT DUFFERS WON'T DROWN

Toiling in the Fields

The eco lights turn off at sundown.