Jaffa

The sludgy mess of our road now the snow begins to melt. Sliding the top layer of the road's gravel surface into the neighbouring field down the bottom. The resulting craters will no doubt dis-please our retired ex road-worker neighbour with his recently acquired low-suspension 1990's Honda Civic. 
Now that the twice a day bus to town has been cut to just once in the afternoon, his decision to delve into the petrol market has probably been justified for his sake. One more car for Harik to bark at as it trudges slowly past every Friday. And unfortunately it is only Harik. Sadly to us and him his companion/tormenter/side-kick/manipulated buddy Jaffa has been found a new place on a sheep farm. To us, either an impulse decision to help us leave for brexit-land or a knee-jerk, un-necessary reaction which may not have been needed if the politics fall down. It has left a sense of loneliness to our place. The patchy white landscape is failing to lift the spirit despite the beautiful mists that like to fall and catch the end of the day's sun. The anxiety, broken light switches and only a half-heated house (we are still waiting for a new stove in the bedroom after I knocked out the last smoke- releasing one back in October...) is certainly not we have discovered for the romantic or the daring to live every year.