I’ve always thrived in the warm. I love weather, but can’t actually cope with extended periods of cold. I like my snow and ice in short bursts so that the cold doesn’t get into my bones and cripple me with pain. Overcast and foggy days depress me. I’ve chased the light of clear skies with joy in my heart. And found something utterly magical about being out and about under the stars of a warm and humid night.
I’ve loved the heat in Africa, in Asia and Scandinavia.
But here I am overheating in England of all places. My south-facing home, muffled and insulated against the cold, stores up the heat and indicates that it’s now 34C indoors. I’ve grown fond of my home again, after the fire, in spite of my ‘level access’ not being fit for purpose. And my plea for accessible windows denied because the builder objected (?), but I can’t ignore the failings of building regs to ensure homes suitable for whatever hotting-up future we have left.
I keep my home as up to date as I can afford, but still it leaks away expensive heat in the winter and costs expensive energy to cool in the summer. As a sustainable dwelling suitable for the globally-warmed future, it’s a failure. The government want to build more: buildings that will costs us the earth – both in harmful emissions during the building process and in the long term running.
It’s time, it’s more than time, to rethink how we are all going to live. Time to value small, sustainable, repurposed homes. Time to work together with the earth instead of against it. Time to respond to need, not greed.
Time to get real.
They demand that you walk away; that your garden
produce multi-storey profit for the greed-slack
mouth lying open insatiable. And you walk.
Each departure a disengagement from your hope
or need. And detachment, a freedom to let go;
or find completeness within. Within your own skin.
To learn true desire as the open wound of love
that seeks no possession. To learn that the gift grows
in the giver; that the value of life exists
in each eternal moment. Civilisation
needs not more, but less.
No escalation, no continuity; no
promises. No recognition, no legacy.
Rolling on the wheels of oblivion;
oblivious of eternity.