show me my book (‘yng nghennau’r sach mae cynilo’)

‘yng nghennau’r sach mae cynilo’ (the time to economise is when the flour sack is first opened) 

yesterday horsemouth went in a car with his mother across the burning acres of weirdshire to ensure that their ancestor’s graves were kept clean. on the way back they paused ontop of dinmore hill for an icecream. they were back at around two and lay around in the sultry heat at some point around four after a few warning drops the skies opened and the rain fell with steely determination. 

thunder, lightning, rain. 

 horsemouth sat out in the glass-roofed conservatory and watched the rain fall. he read hovel in the hills by elizabeth west. it’s 1965. she was a typist. he a mechanic. 

 ‘if we were not conscious of being in a rat race we were certainly aware of the pointlessness of much of our days’ activities...’ 

they take to the hills of north wales. they repair the cottage (enough to make it barely liveable - no electricity, no running water (except for the winter stream off the hill behind that directs itself through their hallway)), they grow vegetables, in the absence of work (so much for the rural economy) they sign on. for 14 years it works. 

back in the early 80ies (when the west’s sojourn was coming to an end) horsemouth’s parents moved out into the wilds of herefordshire. in his mother’s case it was moving back to her home country, for his dad it was a chance to do more of the things he liked doing (growing vegetables, fixing cars, DIY on an epic scale). for horsemouth this was strictly bad news and as soon as he could head off to university in a city he did. 

in the city horsemouth embraced anarchism, squatting, vegetarianism, feminism and a whole raft of other political and musical things. he became the creature you know. 

his parents both retired early and got on with doing the things they liked doing. horsemouth’s brother also moved away to the city. 

show me my book - offers the advert. it will raid your facebook account’s photos and offer you up the photobook of your life. you will be amazed. you will pay to create a photo-album of memories (remember them). 

a friend is retiring and moving out of the city (the one horsemouth usually calls ‘the seaside towns’) probably to the seaside towns. the pandemic gives horsemouth pause. the plague years will alter how we feel about our lives, the possibilities the city affords are based on a willingness to mingle, the possibilities of the countryside on an ability to tolerate isolation. 

the ranting poet david social control’s argument that there is no such thing as alienation just poor public transport has a lot of force. horsemouth thinks how much more liveable the county would be if only the railway lines that existed in kilvert’s day still existed. 

today (somewhat previously) and then tomorrow horsemouth will check if he’s been paid an furlough money (or if that’s his lot). he expects next year (a september start) will be a skinny one. horsemouth needs the job and the cheap rent to keep staying in the city, but he can take a few bad years. if the coronavirus becomes seasonal, the amount of healthy life he has left will necessarily be reduced. it may become necessary to cut and run.