I have spent a long time dreading the place I am now. Dreading getting estimates, taking responsibility for the adequate or more likely inadequate restoration of this place – both home and security. I have dwelt on the difficulty of telling apart the honest tradesman from the undercutting cowboy and the one who hears my accent and sees £ £ in my eyes, as in the cartoons.
I have thought hard on the terror of watching totally irreplaceable capital evaporate while work still needs done, and the impossibility to stretching it to what needs done, let alone to what I have long dreamt of doing.
And now I am here.
And I am just loving it.
Me, the peace loving, the ritual creating.
I am surfing down terror inspiring waves, and it turns out it is just as much of an adrenaline rush in the realm of metaphor as it is when the breakers are real water.