From: Ceels
Subject: Step 5 in Celia's hints for healthy living: don't have the flu jab.
Today is a lovely day so naturally I am in the computer room writing emails and job applications. Today is the last day of half-term holidays. All the boarders will be coming back to night and school starts as usual on Monday. As of tomorrow there is only six weeks to go (42 days, count with me kiddies).
As yet I have no idea what I am going to be doing next. I have a fanciful plan whereby I rock up in London on the 12th, find a place to stay and land a job (can it be that hard?). Apparently there is a magazine called TNT that advertises jobs for aussies (and other riff-raff who have found their way to the mother country and are in grave need of civilisation) I just have to work out how to get hold of it.
All in all it has been a good half term. I have done exactly nothing, but that was the joy of it. I was sick for the first half, but I have practically forgotten about that already. After the first couple of days where literally all I did was sleep, I had a lovely time planning what I would do with the rest of the year. At times scaring myself silly because it is all a bit frightening setting off into the real world (because I might be doing that this time, you never know).
Speaking of being scared silly, I was walking through the Bryanston woods the day before yesterday. It was two o’clock in the afternoon and foggy. My breath was coming out in great white clouds. It was incredibly beautiful with all the leaves falling.
Except in The Hangings.
I don’t know why that part of the woods is called the Hangings but it was dead still, no falling leaves, little tendrils of mist lurking around. I laughed ‘ha ha ha’ and walked a little quicker.
Then, yesterday, it was blowing a gale and there were flurries of leaves falling and thousands of them being blown in huge clouds across the Bryanston lawns. It was amazing and easy to see why people believe that the wind is a spirit of something. Just before I got to the Hangings an enormous gust of wind and leaves swirled up around me.
In the Hangings it was dead still.
You could still hear the wind, but in the Hangings not a single leaf fell. I would like to say that I strode through with womanly disregard for the spooky atmosphere. In reality I crept through with wet muddy boots and leaves plastered in my hair.
Out the other side I met a guy painting the speed humps. He was getting pretty shirty with the leaves because they kept sticking to his white lines. ____________________________________________________________
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