Wash Day

Back home from camp, wood-smokey and weary. Already the second load of clothes is tumbling about a sudsy wash-cycle. I have left one jacket unwashed, with the scent of freedom in it still for Fin to inhale when he wants to remember.

For now, he is absorbing a week's worth of TV in one long gulp.

I however, have the unenviable job of sifting through the detritus of our home from home. The recycling we took away, pots scorched and sheepskins full of six legged travellers, transported from the field to run and jump about the house - wondering where all the grass has gone?

The dust will not have time to settle around us today, we head off again in a few hours to bask in the cosy comfort of Nick's parents Devon cottage. The beaches there are long and sandy, hedges thick with hawthorn and hazel. Nick's mum looks after us better than anyone else and barely blinks an eye at our strange dietary requirements. 

I'll see you next week sometime, after the next load of washing.

x x x