Just got back from 9 weeks in the Van. Feels very strange to be in a house again. There seems so much more to do. I miss staring into space, letting time pass. I have too much choice again, too many decisions.

In the end I managed to tick my 100th grade 7 in Font. It was an inglorious affair, humping my way over a rounded Bas Cuvier non classic, cheered on by three bellowing Germans.  I got in the van and decided I’d had enough and set off for home.

A few days later of Cornish drizzle and I’m restless.

eyelid drawing, doodles of the floating debris, seen with shut eyes.

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