Moan, Moan, Moan

I’ve been away this week. The exact location is a closely guarded secret for nature security reasons, but it was to a lovely cabin in the woods ‘up north’. I planned to have a relaxing week in a completely different atmosphere, perfect for writing. And as a bonus, the hut in which we stayed is famous for having stripy-nosed visitors most nights.

It was my ninth annual badger-watch week.

I unpacked my notebooks and pens as soon as we arrived and immediately started making some new story notes. This was an excellent start but the surroundings were so beautiful that it wasn’t long before the wild began to call. Pretty soon my Beloved and I were squealing like delighted children as we noticed birds that we don’t see at home and most amazingly some absolutely gorgeous red squirrels.

Back at the lodge we settled down to an evening of badgery entertainment. Believe me, there’s nothing like lying on the floor close to the patio windows with a family of real live wild badgers doing their thing just inches away on the other side of the glass.

Our days pretty quickly fell into a pattern: We’d get up, eat a breakfast that was far too large and unhealthy (but who cares, holiday calories don’t count) and then go for a walk. Then come back to the cabin and think about writing for a while, before our evening meal and a night of badger spotting.

The problem was that all of that laying flat on my belly didn’t do my historically-fragile back any good at all. And all the walking caused rubbing on my delicate tootsies; specifically the areas where I’ve recently lost a few toenails. So for a change one day we went to a golf driving range and hit a few balls. But this was the first time in years that I’d picked up a golf bat in anger, so my shoulders ached pretty badly afterwards. I know, all this moaning makes me sound like a great big Jessie. That’s probably because I’m a great big Jessie. In fact my Beloved was pointing this out to me when I fell over.
I was trying to justify my grumbling instead of looking where I was going and simply didn’t realise how uneven the path at the golf range was. Before you could say ‘where there’s blame there’s a claim’ I was down. If it wasn’t for that fact that I was wearing brand new glasses I’d have landed face first, but luckily my natural aversion to spending cash overcame my fear of pain and I twisted in mid-air, cat-like, to land on my shoulder. Actually I’m not that agile. I didn’t quite make it all the way around to the shoulder so landed heavily on my elbow instead. At least my glasses were safe.

So with all the bruising, aches and pains, wildlife watching and drinking (did I forget to mention that bit?), the idea of my little holiday being a writing retreat sort of took a back seat.

Perhaps I should stay at home next week, it’ll be safer.


© Shaun Finnie 2011