West Berkshire Villagers

Jana's Recycling Journey through West Berkshire

 Not much has happened with recycling apart the worry that when I finally open, I will be faced with a mountain to sort through. Although its easy to think that lockdown had some negative effect on our lives, it also made some things better.  

            When I work, I am accompanied by my lovely dog, I still manage to present about recycling via zoom to whom wants to listen, and my husband’s sorted boxes he was going to do for the last 20 years. I also managed to finish a draft of my second novel. 

            Now the final story skeleton is finished, I can start adding flesh to its bones. I haven’t expected to do this, so it was an amazing feeling. It did make me giggle when I remembered how I decided to soak up the atmosphere of the places I wrote about and visited them. 

            I did regret that idea when I stood in the middle of an ancient, ivy overgrown graveyard at midnight. It worked as I felt plenty of aura but most of it was coming out of my behind. My brain was thinking of where the dead would rise from and how they would grab my ankle as the other side of my brain was screaming ‘get out’! In the end, the sensible part of my brain won, and I legged it.  On my way out I had to repeat ‘sorry’ each time I faceplanted myself on someone’s final resting place because I tripped over the never-ending ivy.   

            Thankfully, I am that smart that I never learn. That’s why I decided that it would be great to visit the Nine Crosses at dusk. Tiny details like it being the place of a wedding massacre wasn’t going to stop me. When the creative side of my brain was thinking how fabulous it would be if a hand crawled from behind the cross, the other side was thinking ‘Why the hell are you still standing here?’. Thankfully the woods around the crosses weren’t dense and I made it to the car looking like the Green Man with sticks and leaves all over me. 

            It’s also worth mention the night where I randomly woke up at 2am in the morning and as a slight moonlight shone through the curtains, I wanted to soak in the spooky atmosphere. My creative side was thinking how fabulously scary it would be if there was a shape of a figure by the foot of the bed. This figure would cock its head in response when asked who they were. The other side of my brain, the sane part, was whispering that unless I want to run out of clean underwear, I should go to the lounge, turn all lights on and watch some chick flick. 

            I must admit, I do have limits and some of the locations I chickened out off. The time I was descending into the abyss of local catacombs I lost my courage. I threw away my hard hat, which clattered down the dark tunnel with its light flickering as it bounced over the steep tiny steps. I then turned and rugby tackled an unsuspecting guide who was hoping to give us a tour of a lifetime. The poor historian ended up with a maniac girl trying to crawl over his laying body to get back to the top. Least to say my husband made the descend and thankfully photographed the place…            

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