Blessed obscurity

August 19, 2019

Intoxicated weekend. Found myself beginning a sentence in English and finishing in Spanish. Can easily understand why Marcus A remarked: “Peedeel is profound – but obscure.”

Profound but obscure should be my epitaph.

Chiseled in granite on the high moor. I’ve spent so much time here now: I’m used to all the nooks and crannies of the wind; know in my blood the many moods of the moor; and the places where the buzzards nest and the black-faced sheep graze. Have stood with them in a deluge of rain, visibility two or three feet, dripping rain like a big black bird. Or an avenging angel – profound in my obscurity…