An extract from my diary, yes, I do start early!

4.48

The you bird’s out there. I’d better try to track him down today. Time is running out.

Yesterday was a strange day. I see I finished my words at 10.15, or thereabouts. By one o’clock the day felt done, and yet it kept on running. I walked, to start with, out along the paths here, over the meadow. I thought about picking lilac, and much later I picked lily of the valley, the scent is holding me, the flowers sit beside me now, on some rough roadside somewhere east of here.

The neighbours were not there when I went to call, so I walked on, taking the road towards Umbsaare again, not turning into the forest as I did last time, but keeping on past the shiny house. A shadow of a person walked behind the house, just there a moment. The house has a drive that is better built than the road that leads to it. I walked on. I saw lily of the valley by the roadside, and thought I’d pick some later, kept on walking. I came to a deserted house and a huge timber yard. I walked on past, saw cars and people working, walked on on,  then lost my nerve and turned back. I heard a train and realised the railway was not far away, so I turned back to check it on the map when I got home – oh here is home now, just a day or two.

At home I made sandwiches, well one, put fruit and chocolate and some juice, into my backpack, found my compass, looked at the map, established that the railway was due north of here, through the farmstead, out across the meadow, through the forest. Due north. I set the compass, hung it round my neck, noticed it was only eleven thirty, set out.

By one o’clock I was back, a whole adventure done. I’d found the railway, touched the track, sat and eaten sandwiches, written a poem featuring Dr Zhivago, travelled home again. Now what? It was too early for a nap, but I lay down anyway, and listened to a chapter or two of the unsurpassable Maggie G reading Anna Karenina to me.

Two pm, nap done. Now what? I had a look at Google maps, searched for restaurants, found one  I’d found before, Kohvik Suur Muna, and ventured out in the car. I got there at three. It was too early to eat, but opposite was a path that led up steps and a concrete slope to the highest point in Estonia. Thank you God, I said, for bringing me here. It was his little joke. I walked up the concrete slope to the top, not very far at all, though I was puffing some, and had to pause a couple of times. At the top was a concrete tower, and teenagers, and a shop, and no view. I walked once around the tower and went back down. I photographed a squat wooden gnome on the way back who must have only then come out of the forest.

At the bottom, brave, intrepid as ever, I went into the restaurant. The lady, beautiful, smiling, with golden hair, spoke English. She didn’t frown at me like all the Voru ladies – later a Voru lady at the petrol station was kind and helpful and I said my first real words in Estonian and was understood, and Voru ladies were redeemed – but here my golden haired goddess offered me local organic lamb cooked overnight, with vegetables, potatoes, and some apple juice that was dark and in a jug and actually came from an apple.

The place was empty. I talked a little of my cabin and my solitude, then chose a seat. She brought me bread. The song playing was Lou Read, Walk on the Wild Side, very quietly. Here I was, very quietly, doing the same.

The teenagers arrived. They filled the place, found a piano on the first floor, demonstrated that not all Estonians are musical, but absolutely willing to have a go. I loved all the racket. It brought me back into the world. The world is a good place.

My lamb arrived. It was delicious, tender, lovely strands of yellow vegetables, mashed potato, not too much, a red sauce. And tender, and not greasy, as lamb can be. It was delicious. I ate quietly. I could just hear the music now and then. Scott Mckenzie, Flowers in Your Hair. Now I like music, but there are few songs that are icons in my life, but that is one. We played it over and over on the juke box at army camp when I was fifteen, wearing flowers in our hair around the camp. It sowed a seed of hope in me that never really germinated, well maybe not till now!

The teenagers dispersed, folding back into their coach. Freyja came back, taking this earthly role just for today, and we settled on chocolate cake, with ice cream, and black coffee. It was again, delicious. A thin wedge of chocolate, with a raspberry sauce, not too sweet, ice cream just right, and coffee in a lovely china cup.

Day done, again. I bought some of the lovely bread and came on home. It was about five. I think I got home at nine, though it was only half an hour away. First I saw a sign to Rouge, which has the Valley of the Nightingales. I headed towards Rouge. I found a lake and stopped to look, then carried on along a hilly forest track. The track went up a bit, and down below, glimpsed through the trees, there was another lake. A perfect setting for the book I’ve come here to write. I found a place to park the car and set out again, down through the trees. I found some finished flowers that might have been trilliums. The mosquitoes woke and had a little unexpected feast. I climbed down through the trees and looked at the lake, took a couple of photos, and went back to the car.

Home now. First I’ll get some petrol, and a beer and some snacks for the evening. At the petrol station the first small problem was solved – how to open the petrol cap. For all those hirers of Toyota Yarises, it’s on the floor near the door. Then the pump. You have to pay first. The lady, older, came out and helped. She spoke little English, but was happy to have a go. Together we made the thing work, you had to feed the cash in in a certain way, and then I went in to get my beer and nuts, and paid with all my accumulated change. Aitah, I said, then Head aiga, and she understood, and replied, Head aiga. Not so hard.

Now home. But somehow I kept on driving till I got to Russia. Almost. I looked across the bottom end of Lake Peipsi at the Russian wastes, then turned home. Somewhere along the way I picked lily of the valley, as the scent reminds me, now and then.

Finally home at nine, I drank my beer and ate my cashew nuts and chose my stripper name on Facebook  – Limegreen Cashewnut.

That’s me, that was a good day.