Early mornings at Low Wray, glimpsing a shining world ...

I would wake up, in the Duomo, very early - opening my eyes, I would see the interior of our geodesic pavilion - there was the table, there was the now dormant stove - there were our boots, our cagoules - I would wallow, for a few moments, in the heated images of my dreams -

Dressing took an instant - I would fling on my clothes, the padded trousers which were a second, blue, skin, the clever fleece - 

The walk to the shower block took me under noble trees, past the pea pod tents of weird survivalists, coughing like consumptives, the sagging encampment of a young couple with a gleaming pit bull - 

If we went there during the evening, we had to take a lantern - there were no lights - outside the Duomo, we entered a pitch black world, full of unsettling movement and sound - 

The water in the shower was scalding hot, wonderful, fit for a voluptuary - 

One morning, the sun cast slanting shadows of trees over the dew soaked grass - I could see, through the trees, the lake glinting like rippled glass - it looked like a magical window, an entrance to a shining world -