Posted by Tania Kindersley.
This kind of blog post goes aginst muscle memory. Usually, I give the posts a long run of thought, find some nice pictures to illustrate them, do a little secret polish. I know in some ways that this goes against the rub of the thing. The blog is supposed to be raw, uncensored, freeform, but I have been writing for too long to allow that.
For some reason, tonight, very tired, slightly spaced out, oddly happy, I want to give you an unmediated bulletin. So: I have arrived in the south. Most people just dash up and down across the border without giving it a thought. For me, it is as big a journey each time as going into the arctic wastes. I drove through gales (a very alarming moment crossing the high bridge by Perth), in and out of sudden shocking rainstorms, past a horrific car crash, and under a full rainbow. The dogs slept through the whole thing. My stop in the enchanting town of Kirkby Lonsdale was a vast success. I finally arrived in London and went straight to the park, where children were playing and men were throwing frisbees and old ladies were wandering the tan paths deep in thought. The grass was yellow from days of sunshine. The light glittered off the round pond. The dogs, understanding no city decorum, chased every single squirrel they could find, at full pelt, and then circled the trees warily in case the little critters should change their mind and come down again.
Now I am surround by very old friends, godchildren, a girl of eighteen whose birth I remember as if it were yesterday. I miss the hills already, but I am glad to be here, in the hard city streets, which remind me of a life long gone. Tonight it all feels slightly strange, as if I have gone abroad. By tomorrow it shall just be routine.