Ten days ago I was helping carry a wooden sunbed up some steps. I was facing forward, holding my end of the bed at my back, thinking this would be a better way to mount the steps. It turns out it wasn’t. I stumbled and dropped the bed on my own calf. It didn’t hurt that much, but since then the flesh of one leg has gradually bruised, like slow-moving oil on water, and has made me uncomfortable, tired and annoyed. All of which meant that at the latest meeting of the anti-oil-and-gas group, at a certain point and rather to my own surprise, and having up to that moment (about two hours in) said nothing, I exclaimed,
‘I just can’t stand all this talking!’
And soon after that I left, safely removed by Husband.
It also means that at the latest demo on the beach, this coming Sunday, I shall not be Sister Anna with the Banner. But I am continuing the good work with T-shirts. A Secret Weapon in LA has designed some great logos for us: the design for the back can be seen below. We’ve had an early batch printed up and they will be worn on the beach on Sunday by the banner-carriers, as well as being on sale in a couple of outlets in Tavira. (All proceeds to the cause, of course.)
And my work can be, and currently is, restorative. I often think what a lucky move it was to have found a means of earning a living that can be achieved in solitude and silence. No blog next week because we will be busy bidding goodbye to guests. And a poor effort this week. No energy to update you on the swallows, who were late out of the nest this morning, perhaps because we’ve just had the first rain since May, or to describe the smudge of brown cloud five days ago, blown over from forest fires in the west – now thankfully out. It’s a time of low ebb.