I wanted to call it aftermath but the reality is that it is not the aftermath , only perhaps, as I have just christened it, the intermath.
I'm enjoying my beer. I returned from the bar to dry my washing and to 'find' some more beer. Who needs food when there is beer. No, I am not drunk but yes I have had more than any other evening thus far. I left after my two beers at Cafe Nest, the gender imbalance not suiting me.
Back at the guest house I put my washing in the tumbler and try to virtually manage the solar panel issue back home. I enjoy the quiet at the guest house. The referees are blowing the whistle somewhere and Marit must be collecting her son from the airport. I enjoy the me time. I edit my words and post my thoughts, aware that I am laying myself open for all to read.
I gather my washing from the machine and oh my goodness, what joy, I can't believe it, my hat is there! Now why would my hat have been caught up with my knickers but I reach out for her, warm and cosy and try her on, distressed that she may have shrunk on a cotton tumble dry cycle but she hasn't. I keep her snugly on my head.
I pack my washing in my bag and wander home, the evening is mild. A bright orange car comes towards me. there can only be one bright orange car and indeed it is Marit. Where did you find your hat she asks. This must be the first personal interest question she has asked me!
But while we are talking...... surprise surprise, my circumstances change, what again? It seems I am to move, from her house, into the guest house tomorrow, and into the smallest room, the child's room with the lampshade that hits me on the head every time I enter. I am confused. She says her son needs my room at her house. But he will be with you, at Mykines I say enquiringly. Yes she says but he needs the room. And then adds that she needs me to drive her to the ferry terminal for twelve. I just agree.
In reality, I am filled with sadness and concern. sadness that she had thought she and her son would spend time together on Mykines but it sounds as though he will be here, perhaps even with the children, else why would he need two rooms, and I am concerned that I might not be left alone to make my decisions for myself. I may have to be tougher than I want to be. At the same time, because she has made me pack my bag to move, it easily prompts moving on and I now have accomodation booked.
She tells me she thinks she has just two guests on Monday who will stay for one night, this, a change from the four rooms for she couldn't remember for how long. I doubt it is the truth. I smile sweetly. It is of little relevance for I am moving on. I ought to feel a rat but half truths or untruths are flowing fast from her and whilst I smile complicitly I do not make any verbal agreement. I pity her for her confusion and lack of straightforward manner. I remember her referring to herself as a bit like Downton Abbey and am unsure of her sanity. Life is complicated, I know that.
I would rather be doing what I'm doing now than going to work full time. If nothing more, this will help to refine my thoughts on how I might travel in the next decade or so. The uncertainties, the risks, the experience, are all worth having. Before I leave I will treat myself to some luxury.
I fall over a children's train set and move it from my direct path to the loo. The wind has grown and that annoying wooden man, who turns out to be sawing wood, while his wife chops, is out there again. I sense we may be in for a period of bad weather.
Faeroes
- Wind
- Cyclonic, becoming northwest, 5 or 6, then becoming variable 3 or 4 later.
- Sea state
- Moderate.
- Weather
- Rain at times.
- Visibility
- Good, occasionally moderate.
