Tag Archives: desert

Midnight ramblings

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The Sahara was exotic, no doubt about it.  Think dunes, dust, camels, goatherds, souks, prickly pears, mirages.  But the bit that made me laugh most (in retrospect) isn’t exotic at all, in fact it’s not really suitable for polite company.  But here goes anyway:

We spent three weeks sleeping on the roof tent above our Land Rover, which was mostly incredibly comfortable and I slept like a log.  But once a night, regular as clockwork, I had to answer a call of nature and go balancing down the ladder and out into the desert.  Some nights there were stars all over the sky which lit up the scene like the Blackpool Illuminations.  But one particular night it was pitch black.  That evening, my son had pointed out a camel spider doing the rounds – a big hairy thing with pincers.  There were also scorpions ambling about which were so huge and black that they looked like novelty rubber toys (but really, really weren’t).   And I didn’t want to tread on anything that didn’t want to be trodden on.

So I borrowed C’s headtorch and set off into the night.  The torch shone through a comforting red filter, and I picked my way around the camp beds of those who were sleeping under the stars and went far out into the dunes to find the perfect spot, neatly avoiding anything that scuttled.  When I got there, I tried to switch the headtorch off.  But it didn’t go off, it switched into blinding spotlight mode and when I looked around in confusion it shone straight on the camp beds, the inhabitants of which started making waking up noises.  In panic I switched the thing again and it turned straight into alarm beacon with a flashing on/off mega bright light that said “HERE IS SOMEBODY!! TAKE A LOOK!!”

In the end I had to stuff it down my pyjama top, where it kept on flashing but with a rather attractive muted floral glow.

So there we are, not an exotic holiday tale, but cautionary in it’s own way:  always use a headtorch you know and trust.  Now I’ll try and think of the things that happened that are far from normal experience in the Wiltshire countryside, and which I could repeat in the most refined circles.

I’m back!!!

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Well I’m home.  If anyone’s still there, and has had the patience to wait for my return, a big and heartfelt hello to you!

I left a sort of rural paradise, all blossom and happy warm animals and now everything is awash.  The contrast is particularly marked because I was in the Sahara desert for most of our three weeks away, where there is dust, and camels, and hotness.  And now there is greenness, and coldness, and dampness.  Even so I felt like rolling in the soggy green grass when we drove into the drive, just in pure joy to be home (but I didn’t because a surer path to instant pneumonia couldn’t be imagined, also it would be silly).

My mind is still full of orange sand, nomad goat herders and camels (why do I like camels so much?  They always radiate disapproval.)  But my eyes are seeing something very different – blossom, and waterlogged bluebells, and the stream is running for the first time in two years.  It looks very nice, just ridiculously wet.

The animals have taken my return in different ways.  Porous the gander has spent a happy three weeks being unforgivably rude to lovely Sarah, who only wanted to feed him and shut him safely in at night.  He made her run away several times, and once she had to squat on top of a wall for some time before he got bored and wandered off.  A small, bad part of me would have just loved to have seen that.  But he was really thrilled to see me back, and waggled his tail, and burbled away and tried to pretend that he is really a very nice goose, just misunderstood.

Duffy the peacock is going through a difficult time and doesn’t care.  If he was a teenager he’d be immured in his bedroom, ordering black sheets for his bed and playing Deep Purple.

Chick has grown enormously (I still can’t name him/her, because I don’t yet know if we are talking eggs or crowing).  I left this sweet little yellow cottonwool ball and today he/she looks like a vulture with bad attitude.  He/she has a sort of sneer that only a chick beak can manage.  Fluffy (his/her yummy mummy) thinks it’s a great chick though, and it looks as if it will be a frizzle which is great news.

The dogs are uncomplicatedly happy to have their people home, and Scarab the cat celebrated by doing his Thing (once seen, never forgotten).  He runs up the orchard, takes a flying leap at an apple tree and gets half way up before gravity takes over.  He then slides slowly back down, looking worriedly over his shoulder then pretends he meant to do it like that in the first place.  Scarab is a cat with the fuller figure, and his Thing really is one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen (though I’m respectful of his dignity and don’t laugh where he can hear me).

The horses and sheep are still a bit wet and distant, Slip in particular appears to have gone feral, though Sarah has been tending to his needs every day.  I’ll report back when I’ve had a proper feedback session with them.  In fact this is probably enough for today, I must go and do some more washing (and where do I dry it?)