The Cottage - Day 3
The first thing I see is a large white van a mile away. Too early for my modem surely, and too near without directions. I follow its progress but it doesn’t turn at the bushes, instead going on for the mountains.
Dark clouds and the wind is still roaring all around. Watch the waves break at the far end of the island that’s 6 miles away. Then realise they must be big waves if I can see them from this distance, so watch them with my monocular. They are frightening.
The distant island is barely visible, and wouldn’t be but for the feint shape of the cliffs.
Hope the courier can find his way here as this wind and rain is no fun for cycling.
Still can’t find my cereal bowls. As I’ve had them for 20 years I probably packed them safely. Just a pity I didn’t tell myself where. I improvise again. The fruit bowl. A large piece of pottery with its own stand. It’s like eating cornflakes out of the Ardagh Chalice.
The water in the house seems almost clear, or I’m just not seeing the colour brown anymore.
The courier calls. He’s 8 miles away and wants me to meet him somewhere easy.
I say it will take me 10 or 15 minutes to get to the main road. Even though he’s not there himself yet he says he can’t wait and wants to leave the package at the village. So I gamble on partial directions and cycle off to meet him half way.
When he doesn’t show I realise I’ve sent him the wrong way. He calls before I do.
-To save you time why don’t you head back to the main road and continue on with your route. I’ll be on the main road a couple of miles before you hit the village.
He’s delighted, even though it’s the same plan I had first put to him that he rejected.
It doesn’t matter so much getting blown all over the road when there’s no other vehicles on the road.
The mountains are all covered in clouds. Sometimes I think they look bigger when you can’t see the tops of them. Having a pot of tea and a smiling dog waiting for you is so nice. Can’t help but wonder if the modem will work in the long term but not in this weather.
Sheets of rain from the east batter the wall beside me. I can no longer see any islands, or even the sea. I can barely see beyond the bog.
It works. Not great, but it works. I am online. You don’t get to start having online fun though. No, if you’ve been bold in life and been offline for a period of time, you have to go back and pick up from where you left off. Only when hundreds of emails and blog comments are dealt with can you dive into the latest happy online dance of hello world.
After 6 hours of sheeting rain and deafening wind, it all stops and the sun comes out. So the dog finally gets out of bed. We get 15 minutes and then the rain starts again, but this is just normal lashing rain. From the prevailing west winds. The earlier crazy stuff was from the east. Magically, and very briefly, the distant island is bathed in sunshine and through the rain on the mainland I get my clearest view of it yet.
The porch leaks. A sun-room stuck on the front. The place where I want to paint. The house being so small there is no room elsewhere for my art table, so a condition of my moving here was that the roof to the porch be fixed. Water drips, almost pours, straight onto the centre of my art table. There are two other leaks. No, three.
I’m not fussy and can live with leaks but these leave no room for my art table, and mean that work on paper there would be impossible. There will be lots of days like this. There will be lots of rain. This is not good. The move could be over before it’s barely started.
Restarting painting is postponed and I go back to unpacking, and to rearranging canvases and art materials.
Tea in hand when the rain eases off I walk the 5 minutes down the drive to the postbox. The dog is very disappointed we don’t walk further and takes persuasion to go back to the house before the low black clouds over the mountains drop more autumn goodness on us. We make it just in time.
Over toasted brown bread bolognaise, night falls and the rain hides all lights, including the village and even the lighthouse.
After midnight the rain stops and the wind eases. I stand outside and listen to the sea.
Read the Next Day at the cottage
Read the Previous Day at the cottage
List of all the Days at the Cottage
See Also:
• The Cottage - Day 1
• The Cottage - Day 2
• Photos of The Cottage
• 12 Photos of the Scenery Around the Cottage
• 12 Photos not all Mountains and Islands
• The Cycle Across America - The Beginning
Eolaí gan Fhéile:
Cornflakes from a chalice, from a non-cereal bowl, was always a treat for smaller me. I had a special spoon too with wingy bits just above the spoon and a flared handle. And it was a copperish colour. Hope the porch works out cause the rain, the rain is like the China man, its taking over everything. Funny the way you’d find a white van at the end of the earth!
This bowl is more the Sam Maguire version of the Ardagh Chalice. I couldn’t see ya getting more than 3 bowls out of a large box of Cornflakes. If you filled it, that is.
Were the wings on your spoon to keep it the right way up?
I think it might have been a maverick from some fancy cutlery which just appeared in our house. I never saw its brother or sisters. The wingy bits were like those tail fins on ’50s Merikan cars, ornmental.
I know now there an island six miles off shore and a mountain near. It narrows it down a little.
Look after yourself now, and don’t go sawing off your handies. Or shooting tinkers. Hah.
The water is likely clear by now. Well pumps tend to silt up a bit without use. I assume the house had been idle a while.
Sniffle - Maverick cutlery is the best.
Primal - ‘Tis almost clear now, just a slight tinge. The landlord said it would have a tinge. I believe the house was idle for a couple of months or more.