Tuesday 17th March 2020
The wind is whistling and groaning through the cracks and crevices of the tiny cottage I am renting for a week in the high Derbyshire peak district. I arranged this trip some weeks ago, feeling the need to wander alone and listen to the wild gods, to see if they would speak to me again. I didn’t have any idea at the time that we would all be self isolating, not just me.
I am sitting on my bed watching the fire in a wood burning stove just a few feet away. As often happens, I had to wrest myself away from the dramas of home and heart to make this journey, and I could easily have given it up as very silly thing to be doing at a time when world joins hands in solidarity and dismay at the pandemic. But here I am and whatever I am here for, I hope it will be good.
I was given a gift today. Walking across a field I spotted a dead sheep and a couple of meters away was the perfectly clean skull of a sheep. It was a strange thing to find but I picked it up and it is here with me. I will be asking it some questions and I will let you know what it has to tell me.