...in the bottom drawer
I knew I'd lose it so I put it in a safe place, and now I can't remember where it is.

currently stashed in: Cheshire Street, London
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July 03, 2005 || 4:45 pm
The end of an era...

It seems that, as I approach the end of my stay in Alabama, I've come full circle. I started off living in a house where parrots would attack me every time I came through the screened door to the porch, landing on my shoulder and pecking at my fingers. And yesterday, out of the blue, my lovely little chicken suddenly decided to run towards me at an alarming pace and settle on my left arm. I have morphed into a crazy Alabama bird-lady.

It has belatedly dawned on me that in a week, there will be no more Beacon Street living. Although I'm going to be back in the States at the end of the month and won't leave until mid-September, when I return I'm going to be a homeless nomad in my green jeep travelling around as much as I can, and certainly not greeting each morning by drinking coffee in my kitchen with the doors open wide to the street. Yesterday my band and I played a gig in Tuscaloosa (a wedding) and again, although it's not the last gig I'll play with them (we have a couple in September) it signals the end of regular Wednesday night practices down at Chip's pond and the point at which I now can't really have a say in what happens with the band.

I'm going to miss Alabama hugely. I'll miss having Beacon Street, my chickens, being able to live in such a rough-and-ready, improvised way. I'll miss not having to worry about having my purse stolen or my house broken into - here I can leave the doors wide open while I go to the shops with absolutely not worry. I'm going to miss the people, the everyday chat and folks dropping by, and going to the Shack and the 28. I'll miss being able to dress like a tramp and have no-one care (and I mean literally a tramp - the first thing I have to do when I get back to England is visit H&M and buy some clothes to wear before I embarrass myself.) I will, of course, miss the solitude and slowness, the precious, different meaning of time.

I won't miss the mosquitoes.



There are worse things to be than a crazy Alabama bird-lady! :)

By Blogger Rurality, at 2:03 am  

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