The quality of the quiet

How quiet it is here!

I awake from a dream in which my younger sister Kate is auditioning as a comedian, and impersoning an old-fashioned Latin teacher wearing a floor-length dress. She forgets her lines at a key point. I am mortified on her behalf.

This quiet is awesome: just the odd sound of other humans stirring on the caravan park, and the occasional seagull raucking overheard. Apart from that, nothing. As I swim towards wakefulness, the reason for my blissful deep sleep dawns on me. Let's call it the absence of chickens. Our neighbours in Stroud keep chickens, and a cock that crows. The chickens are an excitable bunch, but at home they're as normal as radio /5/6 in the background. They're just there. Only when I go away do I marvel at the quality of the quiet.

On the beach at last, after 4pm, I crash into the sea, body board at the ready. Marvel again how wonderful it is that I've had laser surgery on my eyes, so that I no longer fear losing a contact lens in the Atlantic. This happened before, I never did file a police report... Next thought: I really must buy one of those UV-proof T-shirts. I believe they're called "rashie" in New Zealand. Strange name! Maybe I've got it wrong. Thing about holidays is, they bring back memories of other holidays. CleanSteve is talking about Bali and the South of France. I am simultaneously recalling holidays in The Gambia, Bahrain and Scotland. The sun is mostly hidden behind clouds, but still hot enough to burn, just as it was in The Gambia in '97.


"I have to go to the Isle of Barra" I announce, importantly, when I return from the not-as-rough-as-yesterday-but-still-fun surf.
"What, now?" asks CleanSteve
"No, no, just, before I die, and before I'm too old to dance. There's a festival called Barrafest...the Vatersay Boys, one of my favourite Teuchter bands, plays there"
"That's cleared up that, then".
And so it has.

Back at the caravan, I discover Something Important. Somehow I have deleted well over a year's worth of photos from my memory card. I don't know how I did it. Obviously the unconscious played a part, but it's a tremendous relief. As CleanSteve says, they might have been good ones, but I have a feeling that, if they were that great, I'd have imported them earlier. Uploads are proceeding a lot faster now.

The Internet Cafe here is called The TubeStation and is located inside an old church. It is definitely the coolest Christian Cafe I have ever encountered, and I plan to return often, if not to blip it. There's even an indoor skateboarding ramp: how many cafes can offer that finishing touch? No doubt my next upload will proceed from the TubeStation, as it's the only way we can get online right now. Long live internet silence: time to think and write!