Since coming back to the village I've noticed a few changes. We seem to have several new water features. Walking the dogs this morning and agonising about what to say at looming book launch (of Salvage) - for example why out of all the words in the English language did I go and call it the one that sort of defies launching? - I find the grass I'm walking on has gone. It's turned into something that slops over my wellies. Obviously the whole wetness-theme has leached out of the text and is overtaking so-called reality (you never know with this village) in that Philip K.Dick style that you can use to get any plot out of a dead-end.
It's not as if the village didn't have everything in the way of natural hazards already: barbed-wire that someone does macrame with and then drapes over farm gates - as though that was going to stop me - then there's the filthy stuff they spray on all those fields of 'finest' vegetables, smells like Domestos and strips the polish off your boots. I am SICK of decontaminating two dogs morning and afternoon as though they both worked in the nuclear industry. If I didn't have that to contend with I'd write an extra 500words a day.
And now the place is semi-flooded. Not flooded note so you can stop normal life altogther and go to the shops in a dinghy - just very very soggy.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment