Somerset: Monday September 19, 2005
Graham was working two shifts today, morning and evening, so I stayed close by.
In the morning, to Williton, where I had a good wander, visiting old haunts and nodding at faces I recognized, to be met with a friendly smile and slight puzzlement, as you’d expect.
The doctors’ surgery is in process of major extension and is temporarily approached over a mazed and twisty pathway of sterling board between mesh fences. I poked my head into reception to check that “my” doctor is still there. He is, and I’d really like it if things worked out so as to permit me to sign up with him again. A doctor with whom you have a good, communicative and friendly relationship is a rare beast.
The only change I could see in the library is the addition of a further two Internet terminals, making it five in all. Not bad for a little old Somerset village.
I took up a one-hour guest membership so’s I could check email and the website and answer a couple of personal messages. Very slow connection, but I was assured that it was a temporary maintenance problem on the Somerset County Council network. My take was that it’s not practical for keeping the journal going should we end up here in temporary accommodation and so I shall need to find a more sensible alternative. Graham seems to think that a cheap laptop plugged into the holiday camp network will do me fine.
I’m enjoying this break from the Internet however and am not likely to check in again this week.
Back to the camp for lunch and to rejoin Graham when he got off for the afternoon and early evening.
I had a good writing session. Nice to be wholly dependent on head, hand, pen and paper for a change, but I’d not wish to do it this way for too long. I’m fatally addicted to the keyboard, it would seem.
No great urge to take pictures. I’ve snapped a few shots but haven’t really found my trigger finger yet, or my eye. My communication with Somerset is first and foremost one of emotion and reaction, not of recording the visuals. Which is sad because I’d hoped to have a photographic record of my break. It seems that schlepping across the width of the Kingdom is rather more unsettling than I’d thought.
In fact, that’s a good description of my reaction so far to being back in Somerset—happy, but unsettled.