Day 11 Tuesday 22.v.2018

Smug after the Flood
L to R - Thomas, Andrew, Kathy, Rita, Delyth, me, Henriette

5.55 am. At least it's not dark. The new timetable (med at 6.15, meeting at 8.30) steals half an hour. H's brilliant wheeze. Read Chichister on Humility - very good - before going to sleep. I think I was reacting to the language much more than to the sense. I'm going to suggest we go to bed at sunset (9pm) and wake at 5. Much more Rooly. The bell's ringing. Andrew said he'd go down and turn on the water. I've lost my lighter. 'spect H has nicked it again. Kathy's leaving today, driving Andrew and Delyth's old car back to Chester to give it to his sister, who's having a bit of a hard time. And I've lost my multi-coloured biro, somewhere in the garden or flood.

Jean-Christophe should not be permitted in the kitchen before 8.30 / 9am. I thought I had a loud voice. When he was explaining about the previous two floods I had to stand next to Henriette to hear what she was saying. The acoustic in the kitchen doesn't help. It's like a megaphone. The Chapel was the same last night when the pump was running.

Why can't people put loo paper in the loo roll holder the right way round? Or is my way the wrong way round? Yup, writing this on the loo. I've got 5 mins for a fag before the 8.30 meeting. It's really shit here.

Great day. Busy all day, good meditations, nice/sort of sad goodbye to Kathy, but she'll be back. Felt so much better (Susanna says I should eat a banana for my HBP/pulse every day - it has Kallium in it, whatever that is. Tried making the trestles for the tables for Saturday this afternoon, until Jean Christophe appeared and asked me what I was up to and produced 6 trestles plus tops from his secret stable of curiosities, which was a little ego deflating, but is another problem solved. Talked to Johnny about the Curtis Banks fiasco, who said they are liable if I lose money as a result of their delaying tactics (if that's what they are) or sheer naked incompetence. He said if Aviva was in trouble the whole world is about to blow up, which I suspect it might be. As I said to Chris Clarke, my IFA, I wish I owned an actual wood, and not a pile of dubious financial IOUs, but I'm not allowed to do that.

Delicious supper cooked by Andrew. I think I must have upset Thomas, either by making too many jokes about the French, or shouting, or just talking too much, so I shut up, and did the washing up. Felt very tired by 4 or 5 o'clock, only as usual my stupid system thought I was feeling depressed, but basically, I need more sleep, so I changed my bed alarm to 9 pm. It's now 10 to 11. And I do feel very tired.

Pol rang, which was nice, and says she and Emily might come and visit. She's not great, eye not working and she thinks she's reacting to the treatment by her legs swelling, and she's in a bit of a state about her garden being open on June 4. I wasn't able to tell her about the 60 people we're expecting on Saturday. Hope it doesn't rain. Feels quite muggy and buggy now, so we may be in for another thunderstorm. She never mentioned my postcard from Naxos (a link to here) so I don't know whether she ever saw it, or even the email. She'll maybe spot it in a month or two, when I've forgotten I sent it. Charles Trevor didn't react either. Possibly they both think it's some sort of Christmas Round Robin, just a bit early, and to be treated in the same way i.e. politely ignored. They don't know what they're missing. A tour round Simpson's psychic cellars.

Listening to Jordan Peterson and Steven Fry attacking political correctness, and a Black American male preacher and a young American white woman academic I think, defending it. Trouble is, as usual, I agree with everyone.

Henriette told me she liked me. I told her I liked her. She's gone off for some peace and quiet in the Hunting Lodge. I think I might do the same sometime soon, although that's a bit weird as I have a perfectly nice hermit's cell in my caravan - it's almost too comfortable. I tried running the fridge off the electric today - it uses lots of electricity, but doesn't get cold. Must get another fridge and test it out. I like H because she's a Dutch FeminNazi - very direct, says what she thinks straight out, clear, firm, runs a tight ship, sorts out our meditations, and irritatingly keeps coming up with my bright ideas before I've actually managed to articulate them. And then looks dead smug and grins like a Cheshire cat.

What else? I can't remember. Lovely meditations. This place is extraordinary, and everything is growing like mad - Henriette says it's a growing moon. I had a very busy morning, but I have no idea what I did. Various discussions with M Ruel and his pilote about the flooding and the drainage, and discussions with the ouvriers about turning off the water when they're not using it, so as to minimise the leakage (une grande fuite).

400 cubic metres here we go

 I picked up Mary M from Boston (who as usual managed to find a way out of the station past me at the only exit from the platform with my great big Bonnevaux sign) and we had a good chat about the history of WCCM (Laurence very scarred by what happened in Montreal after John Main died, which was when the Oblates started and then sort of disappeared - Mary thinks they will be the core of WCCM but seems to feel they somehow depend on Laurence being around, which doesn't seem very clever). She teaches meditation to the intellectually challenged and the assistants at L'Arche, as does Henriette. Should find out more. I think Downs syndrome bods would rather like it.

A day of loses - lighter, pen, tools, all of which then turned up later, after I'd accused everyone (in my head) of nicking them. At one point Jean Christophe was finding things AFTER I'd found them, and putting them somewhere else. Mad (me, that is).

Tried ringing Flost but she's been Morfeyed in Cornwall and is shattered. Joe seems to be back with Sarah (presumably returned from her massage course in Thailand) but they look very happy together in the photos on Facebook.

I'm now almost too tired to put myself to bed. At least I didn't manage to put my bed away this morning, so I don't have to dig it out again.

Rather good piece by L.M.Sacasas about Twitter and Tolkien's Ring of Power (one ring to rule them all, one ring to bind them) and how both corrupt and distort those who try and use it . I should follow his links sometime . . . probably never, like my things to read folder - I never do.