Outer Outposts

 

Tomorrow this move begins. In convoluted, extrapolated, adventurous and sometimes exhausting fashion. Navigating ourselves north and south and north again over thousands of miles, we’ll sustain ourselves with flasks of tea and sticks of biltong. We’ll carry the essentials of early day living with us: the dogs, my computer, a very old cat, enough t’shirts that we can keep going until a bucket of water and a packet of Omo can be sourced somewhere.

 

The moving doesn’t undo me. The arriving does. A little. I haven’t been to the spot where we are going. Husband helpfully provides a picture.

 

 

I think there’s a reason there’s an airstrip in the garden.

 

I think it’s a shame we don’t own our own wings.

 

I think the Outpost suddenly seems suburban.