Retreat to the Highlands
It sounds crazy, doesn’t it, searching for something you haven’t lost?
Was Culloden the last time a full retreat happened in the Highlands? If you’re into history you might say so. If you’re of a different bent you may disagree.
I’m at a very different sort of retreat, at a wee place on the far-side …
No, no, not that sort of image … the far side of Loch Ness and up the hill a bit, just about where the fork is on the cartoon.
In order to understand the world, one has to turn away from it on occasion …
Searching? Of course. I’m here to spend time … time on myself. I arrived with a laptop, clean pyjamas and an open mind.
What about the General Election? From the odd glimpse of social media, it’s heading to a climax.
Voting is another another story. My vote is in. Wonderful thing, a postal-vote.
While our country chooses the the mutha-of-all-parliaments, I’m exploring inner-space. Writing, obviously, with opportunity to:
Only the lonely?
Writing a solitary calling. Anyone who puts in effort, pencil-in-hand (hey Mark Leggatt), or at a keyboard, spends time wallowing in solitude.
Imagine, wrestling with a story or poem that may or may not want to emerge, and all alone. It’s like a trip to the dentist.
As a writer and member of the Society of Authors I had a chance to come out here. Why not? Here I am, with seasoned authors all around. Alone when I choose, engaged when I want … and with someone to hold my hand if it gets too tough.
R & R and working too
After weeks of hectic activity, I’m at ease with a nice bunch of people, nobody looking over my shoulder and can dip in or out as I please. Meals are fun with folk who know the agonies and ecstasies of creating books and poems.
I think I’ll do this again.