Update, 18 March 2023

Note to recent correspondents. For 10 years I write and create chronicles. Journalism on the hoof. The old fashioned sort rather like https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Borrow Uplanned, never to any agenda. I just set out walking, or sometimes on a bus, and see who I may meet. And we have Socratic dialog I often chronicle. I also write quite good poetry and also do a LOT of photojournalism.

These activities take up half my waking hours for the last ten years. The other half living by using hand tools doing hard work outdoors.  My calling became the truth or the complete falsity on 'environmentalism'. The truth of gentrified rural areas; the truth of the rural 'poor'. I part-publish this work elsewhere under pen names. ALL my energy goes into that work. This project many years in a (metaphorical) box on my shelf. But every moment still as yesterday, but no pain or pity within. 

I mention this only as my only failing is disastrous presentation online. As  wealthy Londoners or Bristol people bought EVERYTHING, especially as of 2020 it is impossible nowadays to find affordable rentals. Everyone else's life is so pressurised, even here.

Mine is sublime - always has been. No stress, no angst. Long ago I accepted these things which mean that, yes, one may have to live off-grid in a pig sty or dog kennel. No problem for me. I would not have my life one second different. Less is more. A super simplfied life enables one to focus on what matters - now, this. . However I have one old laptop with wonky keyboard, only a few hours of electricity every day. And thus do not even have time to edit my may typos. And this makes me sad. Tough titties. Presentation if for neurotics. Parents dying of grief trumps all neuroses. It is real