Sleep is an underrated commodity.
After being woken by a storm early Saturday morning and being unable to to get back to sleep, yesterday was a bit of a right off.
Taking myself off to bed early, avoiding the noise, the heat and the bumps of the evening dance party, I read and doomscrolled the evening away after a decent hot shower and a cup of tea. I located some sleeping tablets in my toiletries bag, deciding not to take one, but the option was there if slumber alluded me. Thankfully, it didn't come to that.
Seven hours of decent sleep, a coffee, a sit by the fire, another shower, a few gentle chats and I'm feeling ready to start the day. So far, I've talked with people on the subjects of:
- New Zealand politics
- The fact that Netanyahu is out
- The state of the Victorian elections
- The alternatives to Roundup
- Why the C-Word can be used by women, but not men
- The underrated joys of South Australia
- South Australian bakeries
- The joys of surfer boys
- Tarot
- Theta healing, among other topics.
But now, I'm ready to face the day.
I brought with me five books down with me for the trading table. I'm going home with four. Of these books, I found a copy of Michel Faber's The Crimson Petal and the White. This is one of my favourite books. I loaned my copy to somebody, on the proviso that it came back to me. It never did. I rue the day I loaned out that book. Yesterday, on the trading table, I found a copy of this book. My heart is full.
On the clothes rack, I also found a pair of jeans, which fit. $20. Done. I'm wearing them now and they are so comfortable.
I've also harassed the retreat cat, Oreo. But not in a bad way.
Oreo and I are old friends. She knows if she comes near me, she will get a pat. Or worse. This morning, she was demanding exit from the Chapel. Of course, she had to pay the exit tax by being picked up, kissed on the head, and put down, before the door was open. It's cat law.
She really is the best cat. She's tiny. Friendly, bolshie, fearless. She takes groups of people down the beach, leading the way like a sherpa.
I love my time down here. I love these people. I know how blessed I am to spend time with my tribe. I am blessed to be able to make the space and time to write. I'm aware of the privilege to be able to do all of this.
And I have a night on my own, in the chapel, where I can have the room and the peace to do as I will. I've snaffled a couple of beers in the fridge, procured a coffee pod machine so I can have a coffee in the morning. I'm told Emma may leave me some leftovers for dinner - if not, I'll schlep into Apollo Bay and find a pub meal.
Most of all, I'm looking forward to the quiet. The only sound is the rumble of the Southern Ocean and the occasional passing car. An evening to delve into the silence.
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