OR MY SEARCH FOR A BETTER LIFE IS LOOKING GOOD.
Depression hit me like a wall after trying to be positive during my horrible break from travelling thanks to the government nicking my savings for the ridiculous “quarantine hotel” last year. Misery is an old bird trapped in a cage without escape.
Abandoned veg at end of November!
Bare Bones of an Old Farmhouse
I had tried my best by planning for the future and experimenting with growing organic veg on my terrace in Soho and very successful it was too. I also relearned old skills of use to be able to live a simple life on a farm of my own abroad. I baked bread of all kinds, fermented kvass and allsorts and even made cheese. I made soap perfumed with basil and various citrous combinations and made body butter too. All organic and clean away from the hideous toxins they put in products bought off the shelf. I got out my old sewing machine and made more clothes. I went to the British Museum to give myself some calm and sat in the members’ room writing (as I am now) and looked in awe at the artefacts in the galleries although I’ve seen them many times before.
I went to farmers’ markets and kept up to date with all that was happening with the healthier community and investigated where I would look for a cheap residence in a country that was suitable for me. And then I ran out of stuff to do, or rather I ran out of steam with my enthusiasm. I got depressed and weepy and not myself at all. Then suddenly it all fell into place as Turkey reopened to all people and no longer required tests etc. I was finally free to go over and have a butchers! (slang for a look!)
THE PARADISE I WAS LOOKING FOR EVEN IF A LITTLE BROKEN!
So this is where I’ve been and I found my little bit of heaven in the form of a dilapidated house with a large garden that has olive, pomegranate, mandarin and orange trees to name a few. Also, someone had been using the land and there is a big overgrown veg patch with aubergines, tomatoes, peppers and chillies and what looked like okra. The house is old and needs a new roof and a lot of work but as an artist, I could see beyond the brambles and chaos and I fell in love.
The village is spotless and my neighbour has two cows and a calf and geese, chickens and ducks roam freely. There is a stream at the bottom of my garden with pristine water from the mountain. I also have a tiny local store and a bus stop round the corner which goes into town twice a day.
It’s what I dreamed of all this time and I’m a little reluctant to even write this much in case I hex the deal.
So my friends I had good reason to have gone awol for a while even having a small breakdown from exhaustion and stress when I returned a week ago. I slept for fifteen hours after all the trauma (no food for twenty-four hours lack of sleep and a very bumpy flight) For days I was shocked to be back here with all the noise and crazy Xmas shopping on Oxford Street and around. Miserable people, spending money they don’t have, with grim determination. Anger, fear and meanness all around. Society, successfully divided and fearful like rats caught in a maze. I had just come back from warm smiles and climes of decent loving people far away from this horror. I also had been able to drink fresh spring water from the mountains, breathe fresh air and actually see the stars at night.
I know where I would prefer to be.
OVER AND OUT FROM A HOPEFUL OLD BIRD