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Published: October 21st 2006
Hello again avid readers.
I'm happy to report that after four months of USB cable problems, lack of internet, and just plain laziness, I have finally gotten off my ass (well on it really) and uploaded photos. Check out the previous blog entries to see them.
In other news, I am doing well. I'm currently living in Glastonbury with Micheal so life is good, if not a little bit boring. I'll put in aroute map because I'm bored and I'm scared to go downstairs where Micheal is in the process of rebuilding our kitchen.
Who is Micheal, and why is he tearing apart our kitchen? Well, Micheal, (and that is indeed the proper spelling, inpronouncable I know) is the my new reason for being. A brief meeting the first time I came to Glastonbury led to a long distance relationship and now my move to Glastonbury. On September 8th, he came to collect me from the orchard. We drove through the night and arrived home, descending through the Mendip hills ensconced in the mists of Avalon, early September 9th. I should mention though that we stopped at a service area for a few hours and I mention this
only so that I may comment on British service areas.
Far from fast food joints and putrid toilets, we were welcomed by a Marks and Spencers, salad bar, sweet shop, and gleaming facilities, all under an octagonal glass atrium. All these services, however, aside from the toilets, were shut at this time of night. At 5:00 AM, our brains addled from having only slept 4 hrs in the previous 24, we cautiously approached the single open espresso bar. Staring at the extensive menu typical of such establishments, my eyes glazed and unfocused from fatigue, I became confused. Did I want a latte, or was it too late/early for that much milk? Did they have soymilk? At this point the large, surly woman in charge of the operation approached us. I would have been surly too, I suppose, had I been working the night shift at a service area and forced to contend with bumbling, sleep deprived travellers.
“What do you want?!?!?!?” she welcomes us.
“Umm,” I mutter, cowering slightly behind Micheal, “I’m still deciding”.
“We have LATTE, CUPPUCCINO, FILTER COFFEE…”
As it was now apparent that she would yell out the menu at me until
I decided, I ordered a cappuccino and slinked out with my lukewarm, cinnamon loaded, overly dry beverage. At least, I thought to myself, it won’t scald me when I spill it all over myself.
So with that, I moved from living in a real orchard, to living on a street called Orchard Terrace. The message is not lost on me either. It’s quite clear that I should become a fruit farmer and spend the rest of my days frolicking under apple trees.
Now the kitchen of earlier mention is just one step in the renovation of our 150-year-old terraced cottage. It’s a slow process and I’m now on my third day of cooking on a camping stove in the living room, my pantry stacked around the television, and washing dishes in the bathtubs. All sacrifices in the name of progress I’ve been told.
The main problem, of course, is the constant change of plans. For example, while knocking out a small portion of the layers of cement, plaster, wallpaper, and paint that adorns the wall, Micheal commented that someone had once painted the bricks pink.
“Hmm,” we thought to ourselves, “would WE like painted bricks?”
Yes, it was decided, we would, and we proceeded to knock off the all the walls. I admit that I use the term ‘we’ rather loosely. I have proven to be a slightly less than adequate building assistant. Hence, I’m upstairs blogging.
Until next time…..
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standermann
Stan Morrison
Wookey Hole
Wookey Hole in the Shire? Does Mitch-ee-Al have large hairy feet perchance? Glad to finally have some photos. Would Wookey Hole 4 be your kitchen?