Plans, October 2026

IT is October, 2026. So, here’s the plan. I keep working away for a while in Essendon. Work away today, work away tomorrow… I do my job assiduously and try and keep my head above the ground, my hands out of hot water, my feet dry. I do this for perhaps two more years- can I? - then I might be brave enough to change my work routines to suit me better- less pressure (which does mean less pay)- but I navigate a slightly alternative route- still a similar route, but still alternative- and then I might feel more freedom and be less tired, or less strangled or manacled like one of Blake’s protagonists. This occurs for a while, maybe even a couple of years. Then, without still not having either foot already in the grave… A radical switch, a radical departure, and perhaps the path to great fulfillment, O glory days, living in exile which is always what I wish to do. Probably accompanied, - but perhaps, who knows? unaccompanied? I carry my bags and embark on some kind of transportation with a fresh passport in my hand- to Tullamarine Airport, to somewhere in the middle of the world briefly- to England, my England at Heathrow, and get a train out to Maidstone to be by Simon’s side, if he will have me. I will sit in Pauline’s cosy observatory again and thumb through her magical little Roads of Britain book again (my last thumbprints from 30 or so years ago still there)- and ponder, ponder, but know in my deepest of hearts probably want I want to do. I will beg, borrow or steal a car and go down to Plath/ Hughes country for the first time, and stay a night in Devon, in North Tawton, wander dizzily around the town, and snoop about Court Green like a slinking rat, feeling wholly conspicuous the whole time, just me and the moon and the yew tree. I will do this and feel so well fed and tigerish and raging with hope and ambition and sadness and wistfulness and melancholy- and the next step will be back to Cornwall. I will soak up and breathe, and bleed, fill my lungs with Cornish air, aiming straight for Zennor, sitting once again at the back of the beloved Tinner’s Arms, Lawrence’s ghost, but I won’t stay long because I will seek other ghosts besides his around the corner at Higher Tregerthen. Katherine Mansfield’s tower, and Murry’s ghost, Frieda’s ghost, Lawrence’s ghost. I will stand in once was a dusty lane, but may be not now, do a 360 degree spin a lot like the character in the whirlwind A Town Called Paradise, like a whirligig, waiting for some enormous epiphany, some transcendence that will surely arrive. That, all out of my system, I will stay longer in Cornwall just because it’s full of so much damn history, and I will also investigate the possibilities of work, maybe even springing some luck- ‘yes we have a maternity leave position available, it’s yours if you want to take it, starts in three months…’ Having secured a position I have three months for wild travelling. It’s a long way away, but I really like Northumberland. So up, up, up I will go, and take on short residences in Hexham, Corbridge, Alnmouth, Rothbury. I will have acquired a fascinating book by now- The Grand History of Northumberland- and I will pore over at night in pubs, make plans, and travel to places in the day doing a lot of walking and taking photographs, maybe taking up smoking, wearing thick woollen jumpers and fur hats, barely noticing I am getting old, this incredible fire in my soul that’s well lit and well nourished and burning, burning until like Van Gogh I become dizzy by the explosion of senses, everything is a sense of wonder and I wonder what I did for all those previous years of my life. Eventually, carrying with me all that inspiration, now having a new book to keep me company- The Grand History of Cornwall- I will go as duty and finances dictate, back to that promise of work in Cornwall, and diligently do my job, and when the day’s work is finished, and on free weekends, I will correspond with those at home, read the news on line, and pull my rugged boots on and by foot explore, explore, explore. Soon I will face a final journey. It may be back home. But it could easily be in another part of England- Cumbria or Yorkshire, perhaps even Wales. It depends if that fire is still lit. it may be burning peacefully by now. I hope so.