Aurel's laurels

Carol has arrived for the weekend. Last night Cathy and I were alone here with my mother and Raphael. Cathy made a dinner more like what we regularly eat at home. It was very cold outside and our little hut like a damp refrigerator. We slept intertwined, each attempting vainly to leech a little heat from the other.

The Internet was crazy yesterday. We had Skype but no access to Google. I wrote the notes below and copied them without corrections. Although my brother payed for rudimentary Windows programs, I am apparently loosing them.

Yesterday morning I helped to raise the tent again and then wandered off into the middle field and stared at the wonderful views there of the downs with Kim's three cars planted neatly in the foreground. It would make a good photograph.

Years ago when I was in South America I evolved a peculiar notion that when I took a photograph of something I was in some way robbing myself of the full memory of it. Despite being a keen photographer, (who isn't these days), I've kind of stayed faithful to that idea.

So maybe I will leave the cars alone. They are all grey Renaults and are planted with their engines pointing up into the sky. The idea is derivative, but he realised what he wanted to do very quickly when he acquired the second car and then searched for a third one. The local council are not pleased,but fighting them off just brings out the politicien manque in him.


Nevertheless here is Carol's picture of them when they were first interred.