Yes, arriving at out outdoor rehearsal space, the rig makes an arresting sight… Rounding a curve in the drive of this historic north Herefordshire parkland, it's like a futuristic mirage, an elegant aluminium beast that has accidentally slipped in from another dimension, or come striding over the fields on its insect legs.
As Rose says, our camp in the orchard next door is truly idyllic and we share supper under a fruit tree, the rig peering over the wall at us, our aluminium-alien friend, the fourth performer in this piece…
A day in the archives reading journals of three young women written more than a century before… there are the inevitable differences in the way we live, but more surprising are the similarities of female experience and we laughed in sympathy or outrage at some of their anecdotes (and improbable headgear).
Then Saturday and our first day back on the rig, at its full 6m height… against the clouds and sky it seems almost insignificant, up at the top grass is a long way down. We re-familiarise ourselves with kit, safety checks then the day rushes past like a dancer on a rope, a series of images flashing by:
saluting the sun
paramotor flyers pass overhead
blue skies & clouds – ultimate aerialists
the novelty of dancing in sunglasses
spinning & motion sickness
a few collisions…
& some lovely unison flying
the cocoon dancing in the wind like a sail
arnica cream & dreamless sleep…
No comments:
Post a Comment