Blow

A spot of wind last night. Gretel’s skirts brushing Queensland as she heads down past Noumea. It got pretty rough. Several times in the small hours I thought I was going to be awaking not in Kansas. I’m really grateful to Dave for his help with bracing the awning while he was here. Though the caravan rocked, she rocked steady. Nothing buckled or gave way. Usually I’d have folded everything away at the start of a tropical cyclone, but I’m not actually physically up to it at the moment. I just had to trust she’d ride it out, which she did.

Half my windows, my door, and all my vents were open so it was almost as breezy inside as it was out. I was snug and unworried under the duvet. The wind was strong enough to periodically blow open the magnetic closures of the insect screen curtains in the doorway. It sounded and felt as if someone was coming into the caravan as it rocked at the same time.

I’ve always liked sleeping with a breeze across my face, in fact it helps me sleep. It feels like camping out. Even so, I did not get that much sleep last night. I must have slept at some stage, but it felt as if I lay awake all night. I can’t spend the day catching up, because I have to drive to Woodford soon for two more excisions on my shoulder. Mehdi should have the results of the last lot by now.

Author: Uisce úr

Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done, The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.

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