Running for the hills…

Somehow, by some strange twist of story, I have acquired a pen friend. I had my first pen friend from America when I was 10, she was called Laura. I am now 51 and my pen friend is also American and called Bren. She seems a fine witch woman and traveller and the thrill is no less, well, thrilling.

So it started with wolves and in my mind a moon rising over the mountains of New Mexico, with a few beautifully spiky cactus thrown in. Oh, and an adobe bee house built by the bare hands of fabulous women. It could also follow that Bren has a picture of me living in a cottage built in the time of Shakespeare with roses abounding and a stone circle in my back garden. It is completely fine to have these fantasies about each other, because I am the boss of me, and I get to decide. Poor Bren, she probably has no idea that I’m slightly left of insane, and a part time fantasist.

Lets continue. After swapping some pics and a few scanty details, we’ve had the odd email and exchanged witchy woman chit chat. Bren travels – last stop was Borneo seeing orangutans and sun bears (does anyone know what these are?) and then blam! Third paragraph into her New Year missive, she says ‘hey I’m going to Peru in June, wanna join me?’…

So what you need to know is this – I have my moon in Capricorn. Baby, I am bedded in. Goaty. Rooted. Travel is for other (unhinged) people. Travelling to me involves Bristol. 30 mins away. I can cope with that on a good day. Ok, ok, I know I do the whole campervan between Cornwall and Norfolk thing – but hey, I’ve been doing that for about 150 years in a way that makes it home. Peru?? Bren have you taken leave of your senses sister?? I would cry the entire time in a way that would make you want to kill me; in bad ways. Bless you for asking, you dear woman (who doesn’t know me) but no. Absolutely no.

And yet I found myself downloading an entire playlist of Los Desterrados and mixing up a sangria. I’m probably way off base here, but it felt South American and a bit exotic in my Stroud kitchen in January. I could do an iboga ceremony and get all cosmic, I could see Llamas and learn Spanish. I could take to the mountains and live in an adobe dwelling and never come home to grey, mad old England. I could just paint and paint; if Georgia could do it, then so could I perhaps…

This story doesn’t really have a plan or an ending..its just a fleeting piece of my head, as we are all facing a new decade, with very many serious things charging headlong towards us..hence the thoughts of escape and something different. I would love your thoughts on this..anyone out there been to Peru…Tara I know you have several times over and maybe we could have a cup of tea soon?

Leaving you with this – hit play, close your eyes and feel the heat…

Adios for now my lovelies, the next post will hopefully be more coherent…