This year I decided to take a course at Arvon. It meant a week away in the middle of nowhere, in a house with a bunch of writters and a How-To book of recipes for our evening meals. Coolest thing around.
So, this is something I wrote in my notebook (Nr.7) about that experience:
'By friday I was developing a mild addiction to both Paracetamol and wine- and in a smaller dose but not less important, a strong attachment to memory sticks. (fascination?)
All those long walks and runs I had planned in my head remained only that: plans, as my only and last attempt was frustrated when I got lost in front of a group of cows. I mention the cows because they were staring at me in a rather concerned way... and their appearance was in close proximity to that of a very strange and noisy plane. Conspiracy Theory?
Don't have one, but if anybody does, please send it to my desk in screenplay format (about 70 pages long, in Arial, size 12), thank you very much...
It’s been hard.
Last night I forgot to wash the dishes, I left them in the sink.
For some reason I was expecting tomorrow’s cooks to wash them… my flatmates did not understand.
I had to wash them.
I am having problems to sleep too.
See, I had a system, wake up, breakfast downstairs, prepare for session, session, lunch, tutorial, dinner, wine, more wine, session, a little more wine, toilet, a lot more wine, sleep, more wine, wake up. Rinse and repeat.
I am not entirely sure if my lack of sleep comes down to lack of wine, or lack of structure.
I also found myself installing a little blackboard in the kitchen.
It doesn’t work. I am yet to find out if there is something wrong with it (maybe they’ll change it for a good one?) or if the one in Shropshire was actually ‘magical’, but I am still waiting for a pot of Nutella, a pack of biscuits and some bananas.
I have only to add...
To my Arvon housemates:
In addition to being all very talented you are also very good cooks! Thanks for feeding me, inspiration, camaraderie and food!'