Jerusalem

In the office here is a blank screen, a dried up empty pomegranate and a head with a dearth of inspiration. Outside, the ground is dried hard. Or at least it was. But with the newborns rain-dancing in the fields, water fell through the early dark of Wednesday, replenishing the fish and giving a last sparkle to the faded chandelier of cherry. Good for those lambs too, whose mothers can get on with eating, and give over chasing the sheepdog.

For a moment however, it put the success of Ajahn Sawaengs’ Sun-Chant to the Digging Gods in doubt (he’s been hoping for dry, as the sewage surgeons stand poised and ready to carve through the memorial garden). But by eleven of the same day, with the skin of the path carefully prepared, the sun shone and his efforts were vindicated – it’s been fine overhead ever since.

Two days earlier and down in the kitchen, we celebrated St George’s day in style and transferred the porridge making from Serbian hands to a citizen of the Queen’s Commonwealth. That was the best we could do, there being a paucity of Englishmen (and no Scot). At a similar time, Marion’s magic mop-holder was fixed to the back wall; a simple and pleasing device which one wants to use more than is necessary. Perfect for St George’s day too - having cleaned the windows onto England’s green and pleasant land, I stepped out the back door, seized my bow of burning gold and took to the larder. Fleetingly it became a chariot of fire...

Before I realised it might benefit from the following:

• fruit
• green veg
• honey
• long-life milk

Riding down to the stores, I learnt that the following non-food items would also be helpful:

• small bread baskets
• fire wood
• mopheads (for the bows of burning gold)
• stamps (eg. Large Letter, £1, 2p, 5p, 1p)
• superglue

Returning, I concluded that gratefully we have plenty of toothbrushes, instant coffee, towels, pasta, lentils, spices, onions.