Monday

47. Home.


Well, the vitamin C treatment is over. I have to wait and see if there’s any effect. I did think it would work and work immediately. But I also know I really, really need some time to rest and allow healing. I’m typing this on the train home to Devon with dusk falling outside.

Lion will meet me at Exeter St. Davids and I’ll probably cry a bit again. I do love that man and I so want to be home with the land, the beautiful moor and lovely South Zeal. And Soul Space meditation at St. Mary’s Church on Tuesdays with Kay, David, Paul, Jill and the others. And when I get back to the house, there will be an eruption of beagles and I’ll sit on the hall floor with them scritching and stroking and loving and getting covered in hair as we all whiffle and whine to each other.

Lion and I will have postman-shot pheasant casserole curled up together in front of the telly, a lovely long hot bath and sleep together again with the beagles in their own beds on the floor. Home. There is nothing like it.

On the train, the guard looks long and hard at my ticket. I say ‘They told me it was okay on Twitter this morning. I can show you the email.’

He says, ‘Well we’ve been told it isn’t. But never mind. If they told you it was, that’s okay,’ clips my ticket and moves on. Two minutes later he is charging a girl who forgot her rail card £60.

My life is filled with the Grace of God. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

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