<p>I was drowning inside a pestilential pudding of waste and worry, bullying and belittling, and dismay. I needed a detective to find my better self who did not carry such a basket of grime covered with indignation and fury.<br /><br />Where could I go and be rid of such a massive baggage of belligerence and bungling coming at me from everywhere?<br />Cacophony, clutter and the carnivores of life had bitten me up so greedily I was undone. There seemed to be no magic Vim or Surf powder to wash them off. They stuck and curdled inside me. When shopping and television, I began to worry. <br /><br />Stumbling through this greasy corridor I wandered into a small cemetery covered with huge mayflower trees putting out flaming red torches over the resting dead. Winsome angels stood over ancient British graves. One angel solemnly wept over an English woman who died at the age of 29!<br /><br />I sat down on her grave to write my diary. I was being watched! A suspicious friend had warned me never to visit graveyards as ghosts would gobble me up! But no one had ever told me that one of my deepest, hungriest wishes would be fulfiled there!<br />A small, tubby owl sat snoozing on a branch above as I watched enthralled. For the last four months I had been searching an owl. The NGO’s expert who had promised to put me in touch with owls had not bothered to answer several emails. A colleague had told me I would never find an owl without help from experts. But the owl had found me!<br />Awed I watched it secretively not wanting it to flee. But then realised that the owl was watching me! As my Bridge camera began to slowly click, the sleepy owl gave me a treasure chest filled with winning poses. In one exquisite second it gave me the perfect open eyed look which said ‘What one earth are you up to, hiding so cumbersomely behind a grave and getting so squished, crumpled and ant bitten?’<br /><br />And under the red burnished may flower canopy such an innocence flowered over the day that I was enveloped in bliss. The cacophony, competition and curtailment of that time was trounced in a place where death and angels reined supreme and a little owl gazed deep into my sullen soul and surfed it clean!</p>
<p>I was drowning inside a pestilential pudding of waste and worry, bullying and belittling, and dismay. I needed a detective to find my better self who did not carry such a basket of grime covered with indignation and fury.<br /><br />Where could I go and be rid of such a massive baggage of belligerence and bungling coming at me from everywhere?<br />Cacophony, clutter and the carnivores of life had bitten me up so greedily I was undone. There seemed to be no magic Vim or Surf powder to wash them off. They stuck and curdled inside me. When shopping and television, I began to worry. <br /><br />Stumbling through this greasy corridor I wandered into a small cemetery covered with huge mayflower trees putting out flaming red torches over the resting dead. Winsome angels stood over ancient British graves. One angel solemnly wept over an English woman who died at the age of 29!<br /><br />I sat down on her grave to write my diary. I was being watched! A suspicious friend had warned me never to visit graveyards as ghosts would gobble me up! But no one had ever told me that one of my deepest, hungriest wishes would be fulfiled there!<br />A small, tubby owl sat snoozing on a branch above as I watched enthralled. For the last four months I had been searching an owl. The NGO’s expert who had promised to put me in touch with owls had not bothered to answer several emails. A colleague had told me I would never find an owl without help from experts. But the owl had found me!<br />Awed I watched it secretively not wanting it to flee. But then realised that the owl was watching me! As my Bridge camera began to slowly click, the sleepy owl gave me a treasure chest filled with winning poses. In one exquisite second it gave me the perfect open eyed look which said ‘What one earth are you up to, hiding so cumbersomely behind a grave and getting so squished, crumpled and ant bitten?’<br /><br />And under the red burnished may flower canopy such an innocence flowered over the day that I was enveloped in bliss. The cacophony, competition and curtailment of that time was trounced in a place where death and angels reined supreme and a little owl gazed deep into my sullen soul and surfed it clean!</p>
