Fat Hands

she used to sit in this cafe, and just face the wall. And it wasn’t coffee she was drinking

Fat Hands in the Mist

Posted by Alix on 13 December 2005

So, spent the weekend in Oxfordshire with the parents. Managed to spend the right amount of time there, so that I did not end up feeling maddened by the isolation in Islip. We went for a decent length walk over to Woodeaton. It was extremely misty and the quite attractive countryside was obscured. Trees and hedgerows would loom out in front of us, and I was glad that I was familiar with the area; we would have become lost otherwise. I was put in mind of the 19th century poem about Thomas Tryte and how he was guided home by church bells whilst lost on Otmoor one night. I can’t seem to find a copy of this anywhere, which is annoying. Sieve took some photos, mostly of mist, somewhat inevitably, and the usual leaves. The church at Woodeaton was open to passers by (not that anyone was likely to be doing this) and we had a good look round. I liked the memorial stones that were inset into the nave, with the skulls on them. Not sure of the purpose of skulls on gravestones. Isn’t a grave is a big enough reminder of mortality? Is it not overkill to add a ghoulish skull into the equation? Or perhaps it’s meant as a comfort to the living – a friendly looking skull, suggesting that the dead person is now a cheery skeleton, happily enjoying the afterlife. It’s unclear. We also met a nice horse, alone in field in the mist. It looked very sad when we left it, and I felt guilty for not having any polo’s to give it.

I also went and collected my first bag of organic veg from Growing Communities last week. Really nice muddy carrots and potatoes, and some quite woody tasting mushrooms. Unfortunately being away all weekend means I am going to have to try to finish it all by tomorrow. I see a stew happening soon.

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