Local Is Global

          By August last year, our freezer was crammed with stewed blackberries, but this year’s drought has caused my favourite hedgerow fruit to shrivel before it ripens. On the plus side, this leaves plenty of room for stewed apples, which is as well because a bumper crop is expected on account of the early warm and sunny conditions. We’ve already made a start, collecting windfalls from the orchards at Cothele last week, where we also enjoyed the peace of the gardens there, watching the dragonflies skim over the ornamental pond.

          Later, I took myself off for a couple of days, tootling solo down the coast towards Looe, a popular centre for holidaying families. Every little beach I passed along the way was busy and the term ‘Cornish Riviera’ came into its own. I found a pitch on one of the many campsites around Looe Bay, then walked the two miles into town. I had thought, perhaps, of spending the evening in one of the pubs that had live bands playing, but the reality of my situation did not match my fantasy. Being on my own among high-spirited groups of families and friends soon became uncomfortable, so I caught a bus back up the hill and retired with a book and a tot or two of single malt.

          Back in the mid-nineties, I acquired a map of Britain’s ancient monuments, a cartographical record of archaeological remains that we usually drive past obliviously. I put it to use the next day in seeking a more suitable spot for solitude. Conveniently, it showed I was near a neolithic stone circle on the edge of the village of Duloe, just four miles inland but a world away from busy, buzzing Looe. The circle is small (about 10m) but comprises large, white quartz stones, one of which weighs about twelve tons. I stood in the centre and tried a little mindfulness, imagining the lives of our ancestors. Here I was, immersing myself in quiet, rural surroundings, deflecting the buffeting winds of geopolitics that so distress our daily lives (whether or not we recognise their origin and direction of travel). Our ancestors surely had it tough, but geopolitics was not really a concern for them.

          People like to take a break from routines, get-away, go on a retreat, vacation, holiday, sabbatical – whatever they choose to call it. They are all a form of escape.  Usually, they go back to their regular life after the time allotted, only to find that the global forces that ultimately determine their lives are still grinding away. The question that haunts my otherwise shallow mind is what can we, as ordinary citizens, do to influence the destructive forces that control us? For example, last week the world’s nations convened to agree ways to limit pollution of our ecosystem by plastics. It was reported that the delegates were outnumbered by lobbyists from the plastics industry and it was no surprise that the nations who vetoed any meaningful action were those whose economies are based on petro-chemicals. What should concerned individuals do about stopping this self-harm? What can they do?

          Later, at Lanhydrock, a National Trust-owned estate, I waked down to a hidden vale within the grounds where there is a disused, open-air swimming pool. Built by Victorians in somewhat Spartan fashion, it is kept up as a mini nature reserve, though not many visitors make the effort to find it. So it was that I sat there for a while in the company of hundreds of dragonflies, some so bold as to hover right in front of my face, amazing me with their flying skills and sparkling colours. They seemed like creatures from a different planet, yet it is the same one as ours. The difference between our species is that they can’t influence what happens to it.