I’ve been having the jitters these last week couple of weeks. ‘It’s too far’; ‘I’m insufficiently prepared’; and most perplexingly, ‘What am I going to do when I run out of food?’ However, if I’m honest, I’ve had the jitters before every single journey of any significance throughout my life: ‘I don’t want to go to Belgrade to sing; it’s all too much; I just want to stop home.’
But there may be another hand involved in my misgivings. You see, I believe that goblins are rife in the Hastings Country Park, and that they creep down into the town, steal our potatoes, hide our mobile phones, and cause all sorts of other trouble for us humans; they think it’s funny. They leave their mark too: the rude goblin sculpture above, worked by rough, goblinic hands (and annotated by foolish, human, youth), illustrates their belligerent attitude towards us perfectly.
So I have come to suspect that it was they that have been adding things to my to-do list and winding me up so as to make the future seem so black. However, despite their provocation I am resolved to be on that 11:30 train next Monday. I may not be perfectly prepared, but I will no doubt learn as I go.
Speaking of to-do lists, about 30 years ago, I was running an eye down my list to see what delights awaited me that day, and was surprised to find that the last two items on it were: “Wash Bollocks” and “Phone Sexy Sandra”! The handwriting was clearly mine; their presence on the list entirely a mystery. This, I now realise, is an example of the goblin mischief to which I was alluding – adding items to lists for the fun of it. I have no idea now whether I carried out the former instruction. Regarding the latter, I believe I did phone the young lady in question; however, nothing came of it, so perhaps that was all part of the goblinish plan!
I leave you with a picture of spring arriving in Guestling Woods, except for one old pond, which forever remains black and wintry. I dare say the goblins lure people there at dusk and trip them up so they land face down in it!