B and I were talking last night about how the following for Flinders Family Freer has slowly grown. B was saying well, it would taper off now. The beloved beasts are here, adventure was over, no one would be that interested any more.
I profoundly disagree about the adventure being over (not sure about the growing interest not tapering). There are so many more things still to learn about the growing and foraging our own food. Then we'll eventually have the scary adventure of trying to buy ourselves a home of our own. This is going to be tricky as I'm a author - mediocre to rotten and very erratic income - which tends to make bank managers turn pale. Yes, we make church mice seem profligate wastrels in living carefully, and we do have some money from the sale of Finnegan's Wake left. But dogs and cats took a lot of that, and moving (us and our rock and furniture) a lot too. The Island is a delight in many ways, but transport to here adds a premium. It's not something that can't be beaten, but at fifty I'm back where where we were at thirty, only marginally wiser and a lot more creaky. Not planning to let it stop us -- as long as I can keep writing and selling, we'll make forward progress. And who knows - the big one might be next (maybe even the book of how we came to Flinders). With books there is always a chance. Story over? I don't think so. Besides... I am a sort of chaos magnet, and even in a bucholic idyll - if I'm there... there will be storms, disasters and misadventures, strange creatures from the depths, stranger meals, beasts behaving badly and me learning ineptly how to do all things from pickling olives to making mead, or keeping a milk-cow to how deal with possums. And of course B to keep me semi-sane and sensible, and the beasties to love us and throw spanners in the works.
So what do you think?