Friday 20 November
A bit of a jumble of thoughts this evening. Another tricky week at the chalkface but satisfying nonetheless.
Me and Lisa are finding it hard not being able to walk the dog. We’re going to head out to Wrabness woods tomorrow, all five of us. It’s one of our favourite places and Mabel will have a great time. It will also be good to be in some woodland. The canopy will have thinned and the light will be different. As will the smells and temperature.
It’s been much cooler today, quite cold in fact.
I listened to the last of the series of programs on radio four about our fascination with ghosts. This final chapter was looking at how we have, during the twentieth century, tried to capture supernatural sounds and images, and other evidence, using technology.
The conclusion though, redirected the listener to focus on the footprint that we all leave using technology in our everyday lives. The voicemails we leave, the messages we send, the images we gather in amazing numbers mean that our legacy is there for all to see. Or hear.
We are all putting ghosts in the machine everyday. And then, when I got home, there was a little package waiting for me. A book of poems from the writer Ida Affleck Graves, who was the last resident at Weavers House in Stratford St Mary. These poems are her ghostly presence, proving she was hear, and always meaning that she is heard by the living for generations to come.
The Bald Birder 