on hold

Seems I didn't need the interview shirt after all. I'm to be taken on trust, starting ''first-thing'' Monday.

It'll be strange going back into employment after six months. I'll admit to some first day nerves creeping in but mostly it'll be sadness at losing the freedom to choose how I fill my days. I'm already feeling a sense of loss as I walk the dog this morning along the bridle path to the polo fields. Unfortunately, and ironically, my plans to make this lifestyle permanent requires capital funding and I'm through with borrowing and debt, so that means selling the only thing I have of value that I have spare; time and brains.

The dog and I cut across beside one of the Estate's many wheat fields. I see a buzzard over the copse in the distance and sit on the dry stone wall to watch it. The dog wonders what's up; she's used to moving. There are grey clouds moving quite quickly over our heads, and the furthest ones look swollen with rain. The dog has found something to sniff further along the wall and leaves me to watch the bird circle towards us. It's high, only its motion identifies it as a buzzard, a gliding speck below the belly of clouds. I try to gauge its altitude but I haven't a clue really. Imagining the Eiffel Tower in the wheat. Yes, possibly as high as that. Then it stops moving, apparently suspended in space like a snap-shot. It looks incongruous. In reality, the bird has found the perfect poise which cancels the force of the oncoming wind with gravity. After a while of sky-hanging, it dips its body and turns gracefully back towards the copse without a single wing beat.

It almost beats time-travelling. The dog is bored and paws my leg for attention, bringing me down to earth. We head home in front of the rain.