'came back in rain' (horsemouth is ready for his holiday)

'after luncheon and a cold rain storm I started to walk to llan thomas. as I went up the long lands pitch a glorious sun burst, broke over mountain valley and river, and I hailed it as a good omen...

... came back in rain.' 

- the reverend kilvert, diaries, on this date in 1872.

kilvert misses daisy (the object of his visit) but borrows a book (thus giving him a reason to return another day to return it). the book is father ignatius' brother placidus. a book about founding monastic orders (in particular llantony priory - not far from kilvert or horsemouth).

ok a cock up with the garage door. horsemouth had it looking not too bad but then, while attempting to fix it, he has made it worse.  (he was literally screaming with frustration) it's a two person job he reckons. 

he got lucky the first time and then he undid that luck this time. 

horsemouth was feeling anxious and miserable. and then he cheered up. and then there was some bollocks with the fire not lighting properly and pretty soon horsemouth was properly fucked off again. he thinks he's over anxious and over tired and just a bit bored and fucked off (mostly with the weather).  

horsemouth proposes to go away on holiday and leave it for someone else to deal with. mind his guilt.

tuesday seems to be the day with sunshine. today and monday look rubbish and in fact after tuesday the weather looks pretty rubbish out in the wilds. in the wen it is similar (but monday 23rd seems decent).  

so horsemouth is off visiting and travelling 

thursday he thinks he's meeting up with howard. friday with enza and crew. the week is half term for howard (the week is half-term for loads of people) but still he's working the monday and the tuesday. 

thereafter howard is back to the grind and horsemouth will be continuing his visit to the wen until the friday. horsemouth plans to see people. to pick up a music notebook he left behind and such like. bookshops/ book-boxes - these he plans to visit. (horsemouth has been very low on consumption of late). 

it's the morning and horsemouth is up early. he slept well having eventually sorted out his head. he needs a holiday.  

there are blue skies and there is sunshine (it's a bit of a shock)

there are blue skies and there is sunshine (it's a bit of a shock).

it is quite cold though. horsemouth's plan is to go and muck out the hen shed and then at some point he will womble the eggs up the hill (because it is probably better to do it today rather than do it tomorrow as it were). if he has any spare energy he'll start potting stuff up in the greenhouse or digging over the garden to put some compost in. 

in the evening maybe a zoom call with howard. his mum will be busy with the rugby. 

at the moment (as he types this) he has a cup of tea and call feel the sun on his feet (and he's typing this).

he's just had to nip out to turn off a tap that he'd partially opened whilst it was frozen (and then failed to turn off properly). the water sparkled in the sunshine (that's how he knew).

the hen shed and the front wall of the garage are quite damp - he thinks that's the cause of the electrical problems with them. at the moment though he can't see the blown fuse or tripped circuit breaker. he's going to leave them to dry out (if the weather will let him) and see if that improves things. 

the lights in the hen shed are not so important right now - the chickens are laying well, we are rolling into spring when there will be more daylight to be had. the electricity to the garage has two real uses - it powers the spare fridge that his mum keeps the milk in and it powers a motion sensor activated light on the front of the garage. 

now the spare fridge will become useful (when the weather heats up). 

there is an underground cable that runs over to the garage. horsemouth thinks the hen shed is on a spur off the domestic electricity circuit (the power cable is suspended in the air and emerges from the attic). 

in the afternoon/ evening a battle with the garage door (it's old and fucked is horsemouth's diagnosis). a pleasant zoom beers session with howard (he's reading the god of small things having read carmilla). some confusion with TESCO. 

all problems resolved horsemouth listens to music and (because the ten o'clock news is delayed) goes to bed early. he finishes off station eleven (having told howard about it). 

the morning. it is rainy and horrible. horsemouth feeds the chickens. some of the hardier ones have come out of the shed for an explore. 

after a number of disasters on that front over the years

'yesterday we heard the horrible news from india that the governor-general lord mayo had been stabbed in the back and killed by a fanatic convict in the andaman islands.' 

- francis kilvert, diaries, 14th february 1872. 

you see this happened on the 8th february. kilvert heard about it on the 13th but didn't make a note of it in his diary. this was presumably because he went out to the rifle volunteer concert at the national schoolroom in hay that night. there he saw his beloved (so he spends a lot of time writing about that). 

normally horsemouth does not celebrate february 14th as st. valentine's day (after a number of disasters on that front over the years) but as let's kill captain cook day.

tomorrow no kilvert but thereafter a fair run out towards the end of february. 

fahey week (a preparation of the ground)

on the 22nd of february fahey week will begin again (with john fahey's death day).

it lasts out until february 28th (fahey's birthday and robbie basho's death day). 

last night another dave webb technodub show 'pirates and dolphins (appear in the distance)' remarked horsemouth (and then of course it moved on again).

saturday (today) cold but sunny

or at least not raining. horsemouth might have to get out and prepare the ground (and suchlike). 

outside it's the golden hour. there's been a frost. horsemouth has his coffee. 

today sunshine. possibly monday sunshine. 

friday 13th (first friday the 13th of the year)

horsemouth has done the walk into ewyas harold (and he didn't fall over in the mud - yay!).

he's just been stacking logs into the shed. he thinks they are too damp to come good (but who knows, certainly not your mule). 

once again an automated phonecall from the dentist - does it need to be replied to?

horsemouth gonged off the bell ringing - he was feeling run down after shifting and stacking the logs. it means there will be a month long gap in the bell-ringing by the time he gets back.  

it's the first friday 13th of the year

it being a 28 day february there will also be a friday13th in march and then another one later on in the year (november). horsemouth thinks that's the most misfortune you can get in any one year - though in a leap year you can get 3 friday the 13ths in the first 7 months (which would seem like more concentrated misfortune). 

it's a misty morning. in a bit horsemouth gets his mum a cup of coffee, there's a visit from the plumber due. 

his reading of station eleven  progresses. the georgian flu collapses technological society. the resulting world is something like the survivors - we are with a touring arts troupe (how do they feed themselves? do others feed them?).  the apocalypse comes while waiting at an airport. 

ah there was an american tv show version of it. various characters have been omitted and the plot has been tidied up. interestingly enough the production of it was disrupted by covid (how's that for bad luck?)   

conscientious particularity (a cracking start)

'... such a conscientious particularity.' - prologue to carmilla by j. sheridan le fanu

so yesterday horsemouth delivered the eggs and chatted to a tourist, the postman and his mum's home help. there was another tourist in the abbey (so things are picking up). at least it wasn't raining (or at least it wasn't raining heavily).

he also took an automated phonecall from the dentist for his mum. (which now has to be replied to - ok no it doesn't).

ok so that's that day accounted for. 

today also 

horsemouth will be off into ewyas harold to pick up the hereford times and his mum's prescription. possibly bell-ringing in the evening (he'll have to see). 

soon enough horsemouth is on holiday

'... fossil fuels are not being replaced by renewables, as the term energy transition suggests. instead, they are being added to the total energy supply. what we are witnessing, in other words, is energy addition rather than transition... we are living through a green transition; it’s just that it’s not the one that climate activists, scientists, or, indeed, anyone concerned about life on this planet actually wants....'

and here's horsemouth trying to rock the spot and make it happen. 

horsemouth likes the decarbonisation of the energy supply, he likes the decarbonisation of transport (more trains) and of housing (home heating). 

horsemouth's position is tenable. he's out in the wilds, it's all going ok (so far). 

keir starmer's position is untenable (so they say). 

but then he has just survived.

starmer will survive until the end of may (probably). he's a useful fall-guy for the gorton and denton by-election and later on, the local election results in may (further his likely successors aren't ready to mobilise just yet).

he may even survive beyond may - more stuff may come out damaging to his potential successors, the whole world situation may become so chaotic that dumping him begins to look like a bad idea. who knows he may suddenly become passionate and confident (free of mandelson and mcsweeney's baleful influence he may develop a personality). 

howard has been reading carmilla which he pronounces ' an excellent book'  - drat! that means horsemouth will have to re-read it. 

it's off to a cracking start horsemouth must say. 

here it's another horrific rainy morning. horsemouth has been out to feed the chickens and unleash them (but he suspects that today they will mostly be staying in).  

paul didn’t mention vultures ('stay calm. this is simply the beginning...' )

'what we all believed is true... none of them are any good...' 

- ian hislop (of private eye) summarises the sentiments of the nation. 

a former work colleague of horsemouth’s has summoned the guillotine (that most useful of instruments) and the vulture (that most sagacious of birds) to do the necessary work of riding the world of our venal, corrupt and fecking useless ruling class.

horsemouth had hoped they were going to load themselves into rocket ships and blast off in search of new markets to conquer (but no such luck). 

he had hoped they were going to load themselves into bunkers far beneath the earth and sit out the apocalypse (sadly not). 

ok here horsemouth lies, horsemouth's friend didn’t mention vultures, but they’re a nice touch don’t you think.

the conversation then moved on to the necessity for a guillotine emoji. 

horsemouth (however) cautions against rage. horsemouth pretty much thinks there are two kinds of people - those who are in touch with their anger and can make use of it without being destroyed by it and those who are not in touch with their anger and are destroyed by contact with it. 

horsemouth thinks of himself as being in the later category - if he loses his temper then he loses, is his belief. consequently he tries to go about everything calmly and carefully (however angry it makes him).

'stay calm. this is simply the beginning...'  

last night he watched small prophets the latest detectorists sort of thing (and very charming it was). michael palin appears as a senile old man in a nursing home. 

horsemouth had a dream where he was on south wales railways and he lost his rucksack.  

'the brightside of the planet moves towards darkness...'

yesterday horsemouth was being useful (he does like to be useful).

he has agreed to be useful again (if that would be useful). 

faced by a choice between everest and K2 the expedition thought it might be better to start on a smaller mountain. 

'the brightside of the planet moves towards darkness, 

and the cities are falling asleep, each in its hour...' 

- czeslaw milosz, the separate notebooks. 

horsemouth has been reading station eleven by emily st.john mandel (from whence the milosz quotation).  it is a disease apocalypse novel written before covid (published 2014) -  the disease hits. millions die. technological society collapses. 

in the front cover photograph by theo gosselin is of a deer wandering through a deserted mall car park. theo's other photos all seem to be hippie roadtrip.

and it's getting dark. has horsemouth closed up the garage? he'll need to go and check. 

wes streeting seems to think he can get out in front of the mates with mandelson thing and be a credible candidate to replace starmer. but he needs to get going soon, before angela raynor because getting out from under her hastings flat debacle will take time. 

horsemouth thinks sir keir can stretch it to may (but he could be wrong he could be gone today). maybe the gorton by-election will finish him off (or maybe it will consolidate his power). 

rabbit on the lawn this morning. a greyish morning but not actually raining yet.