At 3am, I am messing with model electrics. Swollen eyes but already, my brain is softening the edges, taking away grief and also joy. These months are flat when they are not violent. When Lee comes to say "go to bed" I say I had a bad night.

Wave after wave. The thing she said two years before. The night I didnt take enough soup to the hospital. Our last truly lucid moment when she held my face and stroked my hair in a hospital corridor, taking me in, knowing why. I am numb because my body can't hold all of her at once.

Last night I drank a whisky and made a model. I was listening to music and grief has numbed me for six months, but music strips that away. A folk singer told her lost mother what it was like without her, and for a little while, I could feel again. And it hurt. My whole body felt it.

Today is a bad EDS day. My hips and feet hurt a lot and I didn't get to walk. So here's one from Calderdale.

And im callig that a Fury Hole, because wasps. A little family followed us up the path with two kids, so I walked back down to them pointed out the Fury Hole and said "cool, right?You'll be fine if you don't stick your head in it" AND WHAT DID THEY DO?

See this little hollow? Its brilliant. There's a wasps nest in the ground just to the left (you'll have to believe me, they were quite annoyed). Its in a badger run, so one evening, a badger spotted the entrance, had a little dig, got stung to hell, and buggered off. All written in a little hole.

All I'm saying is, that phallus impudicus are fruiting. And if you see one lying uprooted, before you excitedly pick it up and yell "HEY PHALLUS, ALREADY!", remember that the smell isn't just the cap, or you'll spend your day smelling like a decomposing bigfoot.

I'm doing some grassland management at the moment. Yesterday we moved the ponies to another field (brilliantly, that involves yelling: 'OI! PONIES' until they do the rest themselves) and got to use a scythe for the first time. Watch yer ankles coz i'm scythin now.

An alarming but accurate message from my bank.

Hello. I saw something bloody lovely today and now you have too.

Peg is an odd little peanut. A favourite thing is that she absolutely bloody loves a bench. We can't walk past one, or she'll cry about it, pulling back: we all of us have to sit for a bit, watch the world, have a hug. Shes a bright girl. Anyway, we got her one of her own and she loves it.

Hi, are you awake? You look like you're awake now. Can I have a snack? Someone stood on your eyes until you woke up?! Oh, no! Can I have a snack?

And when I push my forehead to the stone, there is no thought of suns or moons, of trading flint. I only reach four thousand years to wrap my arms around and say, "My kindred." I'm so sorry for your loss.

And when I see the burn mark, set to keep the sleepers safe from demons and from boggarts. Well, no. Let them in. There's nothing they can do.

Grief creates two minds that run concurrent. There is the day. The sun. The bridge. There is framing a shot as a red kite calls above. There is the smell from the donut shop. And there is the scratch against my sternum. The birds inside my lungs. She is gone. She is gone. She is gone.

Away to the edges: the border between England and Wales. The age of the land sinks into you, here. Makes you ancient too.

I inherited this games table from Mum. Grandad made it for her: clanging and banging in the cellar of their red brick terrace until he emerged to say "I've made you something". He carved all the pieces: drew little faces on the knights. Its a legacy of love, isnt it.

A local pub is accidentally growing its own wood ear. Entropy, listening at the threshold.

Cloudburst.

The first and greatest love of my life has gone. She was kind, thoughtful, lovely. Modern and timeless. A dancer. A child of the 60s. Protecter and carer. I'm so grateful for all of the kindness and love she poured into me. Go well Mum. You are the best human being I have ever known.

Barking from the kitchen. Peg, what? I'm really busy. Bark, bark, bark. Peg! BARK BARK BARK BARK. So I looked. Peg was yelling at her Christmas Jumper, demanding it be put on, because I assume, Santa is coming and this is her only chance to get off the naughty list.

Its weird what becomes important. I love this tree at the hospital at the moment. It has changing rainbow lights and I'm grateful for whoever took the time to put it up. Also: massive gin! 🥳

I thought we were doing something for Mum. That we were grieving Quad and it was a bit too early but had to be now. But Mum was gifting us a Peggy. No other little gremlin would do.

I love her, so much, but i'm so deeply grateful to her too. She understood the assignment.

We weren't ready for another animal after Quad. But Mum is obsessed with dogs: couldn't care for one herself. We knew it was the one thing we could do for her to make her happy. And she's the one person Peg calms down immediately for. Walks quietly by. Sits carefully with. This wonderful dog.

Her first family wanted to love her, she was just too much dog to deal with. Terrier Pups are a lot: Lee and I think she's quite calm now until folks meet her and go "fuuuuucking hell". She's a little whirlwind. All fun and shouting and running about.

Peggy came home from the shelter with a little bag. In it, were the belongings she was surrendered with: a little nylon bone and this blanket.

Blackpool rock.

Rough night in Levenshulme.

Mum: "anyway, people always think babies are cute, and when you were born people would say, oooh, isnt she beautiful. And I thought, no. No she isnt. She looks like a weird, wrinkly old man. Like an ugly gnome".