Dear Sheddists,
as Sunday dawns bright across the slumbered camping fields of Cornwall we are to be found nestled in the back of Veronica the Van, sound asleep and watched over by Letitia, our tousle-haired guard guinea-pig.
All seems at peace with the world.
Dressage en van
It's only on rising we discover the difficulties of simultaneous dressage in a space designed for little more than easy passenger access. Heads are bumped, socks mislaid and underwear exchanged as Letitia looks on impassively.
We resolve that on return home we shall adopt a strict training regime for the summer ahead and partake all our meals in the cupboard beneath the stairs, cooked on a one-ring primus stove.
Some running repairs
After an unpromising start it's a brisk but welcome shower in the spotless camp-site facilities with a bacon-buttie breakfast chaser to follow. Set up for the day, we take off for the Eden Project, stopping en route for our first running repairs to Veronica.
Whilst the replacement of a blown reading-light and the re-attachment of a minor pop-top fastening may not appear the stuff of aspiring Barry Bucknalls it ranks as one of yours truly's finest hours in the field of DIY endeavour.
Not for good reason has mrs electrofried padlocked the tool-box back home, but I rise triumphant from the back of Veronica, screw-driver clutched manfully in hand only to bump my head yet again on the roof-lining. Oh well, that's life!
We scale the heights
Running repairs duly effected it is but a short drive to the Eden Project, and what a magical place it turns out to be. We walk through waving fronds of neon-green fern to the waiting Bio-spheres at the very bottom of the quarry site.
We start with the rain-forest and as we climb higher and higher so the temperature rises. We pass a marvellous series of wall-paintings in faux native style - running ants, fecund female tree-forms and the celebration of new growth. Mrs electrofried spots a tiny green lizard scuttling overhead through the branches of a moss-draped tree.
And then it looms into sight. One hundred steps up a swaying walk-way to the overhead observatory, suspended cradle-like above the forest. Much to mrs electrofried's surprise I rise to the challenge. Five fear-filled moments later and we're there and what a view! With trembling hands, I fire off a few photographs and then it's time to return.
At rest
We venture next to the Mediterranean Biosphere and whilst it fails to scale the heights of the rain-forest we're rewarded by the first music of the day, an impromptu gig beneath the cacti that gives space for some much-needed reflection.
Drained, we pause for refreshment at the conveniently sited cocktail bar (a lemonade for mrs electrofried and for me something a little stronger involving an unlikely combination of buffalo grass and vodka) before returning to rest up for a while in Veronica. The pleasures of a good book await, in my case Dominic Sandbrook's,
'State of Emergency', a superb exposition of the Heath years.
Suitably refreshed, we return for the main event of the day as the sun sinks slowly behind.
The sound of glaciers
The opening act of the evening is Daughter, who we will meet again later in these tales from my sabbatical.
However, it's the headliners, Sigur Ros, we've come to see and once more they prove their brilliance. Amidst plumes of smoke and a dazzling light-show their music summons the force of a glacier, implacable and unstoppable. It brings to mind our visit to Iceland some five years ago, seeing a huge metal bridge discarded five miles downstream by the might of flowing ice!
All too soon the music fades and we're left to make our way back to Veronica, the might of the evening still ringing in our ears.
best regards,
electrofried(mr)
