Day Twelve: A New Rhythym

A different rhythm both to my day and to my week is starting to emerge. It is no longer the mechanical rhythm of commuting to and from paid employment five days each week, my hourly schedule regulated by the clock, fitting food shopping, cooking and leisure into evenings and two-day weekends. Nor is it the kind of relaxed daily routine into which one slips during a holiday, in which the week as a whole follows a schedule but no rhythm.

My week still retains a reasonable differentiation between the days: so, for instance, I still cook pancakes for Sunday breakfast, and we have returned to attending the Sunday morning Quaker meeting. Most mornings I walk between four and eight miles before breakfast, and as a result am getting to know the geography of the area, and to encounter people out jogging or exercising their dogs.

It is hard to ignore the fact that we have committed ourselves to a massive undertaking, and there is an enormous mountain to be climbed. My temptation is to press on relentlessly. However, as a friend pointed out, it is important to try to pace oneself. I recognise that from mid-morning until lunchtime my energy will be higher, and I feel readier to embark on heavier work. This morning I launched into carving an office out of a solid block of still-full packing boxes. The crowning achievement was re-assembling and setting up my desk-top computer. Afternoons bring with them a serious risk of flagging, so I try to do something less strenuous (than box shifting) that involves lots of movement. On several occasions last week the activity was grass cutting; today it was skip (dumpster) diving. A few days ago I spotted some wooden palettes beside a skip. Today I was able to request the palettes, and removed them on a sack barrow (station porter's trolley), palette by palette, wheeling each noisily along the road. My intention is to construct a two-bin garden compost unit, for which wooden palettes are reputed to be ideal. Nous verrons. By the time I had rescued seven wooden palettes, two large, palette-like wooden crates and five 60 cm concrete kerb stones, it was nearly time to start vegetable preparation for dinner. However, I was determined to rearrange the kitchen before I started the cooking. This was not a distraction activity, just trying to make the slowly emerging space work a little more efficiently.

After dinner, we each visit Facebook to catch up with people. The living room is still solid: which is how it will remain until I have some furniture straps with which to secure the book shelves, and as a result we are unable to watch television (a situation about which I do not feel especially unhappy, although my daughter does). It is usually well after midnight when, having drunk a hot (soya-)milky drink, I switch off the bedside light.