Sunday Stories: A Reading From Bardskull
The Art of Unriddling
Morning friends from a rain-sluiced Dartmoor. You find me at my desk and reading to you from my book Bardskull. It’s one of my favourite moments in the story; when giants, young kids, myself and a hare walk up from the coastal town Torquay into Dartmoor. As the kids walk, as hare strolls, as I gambol, a secret history of how we humans first came to Dartmoor evolves between the three perspectives. I have no idea quite how this book came to be, but I’m immeasurably grateful that I got to ride alongside it for a while. (You may catch Harry my very beloved cat purring away.)
I’m not entirely indisposed to sleeping on a mattress again after the forest vigil, but I’m missing the sheer feeling of that period. Praying in the woods like that washes a great deal of nonsense away, and the physicality of the lifestyle keeps you properly ready for bed once night draws in, as it is earlier and earlier now. There’s much about the encounter I will be seeking to cultivate.
And back at the hut, here’s some of what’s on the reading list right now (thank you to Judy of this parish who tracked down some of these on her recent peregrination in Ireland). You will note Bridy on my reading/sleeping chair and a family tribal blanket –Buchanan – close by.