I woke up at four this morning. Very dark, very cold. So I made coffee and scurried back to bed with Notes from Walnut Tree Farm, the wonderful book by the late Roger Deakin that is now the third book of a superb trilogy that includes Waterlog and Wildwood. And I read: The naturalness of an unnatural product. The great chrome Jaguar over the entrance to Marshall's garage showroom opposite the airfield at Cambridge. The early motor car names were all about grace and speed: Swallow, Jaguar, Alvis Silver Eagle, Singer Gazelle, Humber Super Snipe (Reliant Robin or Reliant Scimitar, you take your choice).
I exclaimed "I know that Jaguar! I've got a photograph of the very one!" (It's amazing what'll get you going in the cold, dark, early hours.) So obviously feeling very smug and self satisfied I fell asleep immediately.
4 comments:
4 in nthe morning is supposed to be a time of lowest spirits...you obviously didn't get the memo.
Ovaltine, great pic by the way.
If you made a noise at four in the morning and there was no-one there to hear it, did you, Peter, in fact, make any sound at all?
Ah, Fred's Theory of Existentialism. Usually when I cry out from my bed I have folk on neighbouring estates the following morning asking if I was 'alright last night'. Nothing was said yesterday, so I suppose I had indeed emitted a silent Edvard Munch-style exclamation.
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