Not that I'm sitting a rock warm. Quite a few things have happened here and it was high time they did. Like the spring befits its cleaning, in the autumn one has to perk up for the winter. Last summer was a wide-open-doored one at White Strand. A chat to the right, a confabulation to the left and Dusty in the middle. At the end of September we filmed again with 'Mona Lisa' and this is meant to be broadcast next spring/summer on France 2, after which, of course, the docu will storm around the world, as it's Dusty answering the call of beauty.
October was an all-Dusty month and in November the van had to go to Holland for its annual check. There I often was tired to death and thought this was on account of my kidneys. But back here I butterflew over the rocks again and had a burst of make-over ideas.
First of all came my clothes. My system of clean clothes in the blue laundry bag, dirty clothes in a shopping bag and everything that moved in between on a heap had been a caresore for years. Therefore I macramé-ed a hammock from untangled fishing net-rope and suspended it oblique across the foot of my bed. All spic, span and spun.
For a long time it had been a thorn in my side that the necessity half pipes that I had suspended on elastic bands above my desktop lost content at every pothole I hit, so I had to recover this from the floor and under my bed. Because a picture can say more than a thousand words, behold how it looks now:
Now a storeroom capacity of 6x5=30 litres is suspended above my table and that is a luxury hitherto unknown. Everything I might need is there for the taking and the transparency of the plastic organises my instruments even more conveniently. At last I can operate with surgical precision again.
My tabletop hung suspended with ropes on either side. Not anymore. It is anchored rock-steady upon metal supports and can harbour a little vice on which I can work in small dimensions.
Sometimes I have heavier jobs, like the humpback wing last winter. That I made on a table with a loose leg, a practically unrepairable handicap and an ongoing irritation. To that I devised the following:
The closest pole goes to about 75 cm deep into a ground that is largely composed of stones that have been tossed up by the ocean in the course of many a storm. This pole is also supported by three legs (one of them is just behind the pole). The other pole stands loose on the ground with two supports. The wide plank in between is the primary worktop and can be adapted to a specific job. The 'loose' pole can be positioned around the 'fixed' pole. This way I can turn it so the worktop is in line with the direction of the wind. Then I drive the rear end of the bus close, with the head into the wind and put up the tent behind the bus: workshop!
Way back when at the farm of my grandparents in Holland, there was a slanted rack upon which the milk cans were put upside down after they had been cleaned. This way I have now organised my dish wash.
Whether it was that my kitchen roof was giving in or that I myself was getting stiffer, I don't know. But I had to bend more and deeper to get inside. In November a storm had ripped part of my roof off and messed up the inside. So I had to get to work on it anyway. With my screw Jack I hoisted up the then washed up telephone pole, upon which the marine plied sheets were resting, half a metre, so now I can enter my kitchen with some upright dignity.
At eastern wind my water takes almost twice as long to boil. So I have made a removable door. Either side needs finishing carpentry.
That made living on the meadow a lot more comfortable. And none too soon. It has been frosty now for nearly a week and that is exceptional for Ireland. On the radio reigns quite a panic as Christmas is closing in. It's nine below zero which is only two less than Ireland's absolute mercury rock bottom. The roads have changed into ice rinks and for counteracting icy roads I can't even find a proper term. I felt it coming and stocked up food for a week. After that I've not been on the road. But I did get up around eight in the morning. And then the break of day looks like this: (without added coloring)
A few nights ago, all moisture had been iced out of the air and caught upon the rocks in frozen colour which made them look like giant marshmallows:
And I have hardly finished my wheat porridge when a fishing boat chugs by with Dusty in the bow wave. She swims along on a near daily basis and sometimes, when the boat has stopped to harvest a lobster pot and then again accelerates, she avidly jumps in front:
How I'd love to have such a savage wet suit.
And as our happy end the sun is waved farewell.