Petra, Barry’s ex wife, died suddenly so I’ve been in London helping to link the personalities spiked by a sudden death, of Barry and his son Marlon. Oh what pleasure to return to the wood, sit in dappled shade of sap green leaf. The wood is at it’s summer height.
Heard from Arthur that Mr Took does not want to sell, is content and will rest his days on his land. Nothing lost. Mr Took, like me, loves his land.
I’ve planted yellow lupin, a hosta and Heuchera, Gills plants, a honey suckle and a Chineese ever green climber to entangle the dead hedge.
One year on, I met the famous Richard Amour with Graham. He gave us a copy of the complaint from the neighbour with the barking dog. Oh foolish me keeping in the detail of the dog, for umbridge has been taken. In April he’d said ‘I think that either you or Mr England have misunderstood the process; we have not refused your prior notification application and nor have we determined that planning permission is needed. Can I draw your attention to para E12, and then E17. What we have done is determined that prior approval is required for siting, design and external appearance, and you now need to submit those details for consideration.’
Longest day camped in the wood. Barry chastises the unorganised fashion. Pam and Stevan, Gill, Catherine and Phillip come to celebrate. Gill sat in her French rocking deck chairs, and we talked of Palestine – as one does with Gill, drawing on her rich and varied life. She’s off to the South of France to meet up with John who she finds again, a past lover.
Slept in the van, soundly, the first night in the wood. Bird song in the morning. Happy.
Kaliwood 