A sludgy whirlwind…

Cabin 01

   An improvised reenactment of a court case in front of an audience of lawyer students. I was one of the characters on a panel, representing someone in real life, and I’d just done my bit – been asked how I knew the suspect or whatever. I’d been instructed how to respond to help the story along. I did alright. The rehearsal had been slightly better but I felt like I was channeling the real person somehow. And then woke up in the cabin where I’m living, and started to write this… I’m tired…

cabin 03

   Someone wrote to me asking about the book last week and prompted this… it’s been a while. And I felt, well, I’ve had a recurring thought that I miss you, and I’ve wanted you to know that. This is an open letter to everyone – especially those people who’ve actually passed through my life. Who I’ve shared time with. How do I miss you if I’ve never met you? I miss the great embrace of everything, or perhaps I’ve never quite been there but would like to. To live brim full. I want five lifetimes – 100, and meet everything and everyone. And those of you who I’ve met along the way these last 41 years – I do miss you. I moved house, city, country – leaving trails of memories and connections. But I never felt like I was leaving, just going away. I disappeared to write, and at the beginning of this year – I joined my cousin and her feller on their permaculture farm. To build a retreat in a wood and get closer to the soil. To escape the mad economy and do something ‘real’ I suppose. While Rome burns I would plant things that will grow and build a community.

   Now I feel far away, but I never left you. Not in my heart.

   Isn’t it strange, this time we’re in? Yeah, corse it is. This underlying confusion and helplessness. The far away big governments who ruin our world, and media, the migration of tens of millions, species extinction, plastic, Monsanto, wars, climate change – everything so slow to change. Who is China? Why is Trump? Brexit. The rise of the far right. Corbyn, May and all those terrible people she works with. It’s a sludgy whirlwind. I’m fighting my ego in writing this suddenly. I want to let the morning sensitivity guide me in writing rather than – my ego wants to shape the words carefully. I’m enjoying writing ‘automatically’. Even if it’s a bit shit and disjointed I’ll post it regardless…

cabin 05

   Maybe you have the same experience – not in the detail, but the same feeling of being dragged by the background force of that whirlwind, and just trying to grasp details of living that make it ok, that seems to make it ok. Make the sixth mass extinction OK. Tweak the details. Focus on what’s in front of me to the detriment of all that goodness I’ve known. And what’s in front is all I have the energy for. Keep my head down as much as possible because all that big global stuff is exhausting. I’ve got to take the world in as I would a film. And then it’s nothing like that. I stare it dead in the eye and have the feeling of being swept away. And then I feel power for a moment and plan to face it with you. Face-off this stupidity/insensitivity in some creative way. With the growing movement. You and me and all of us. All the threads joined at last.

Cabin 02

   It’s cold. Last night the fire was going and I was creating again. I forget how much I enjoy making physical things – this time reimagining the tree prints for a Christmas market. I remembered that I’m a good artist. I’m blowing my own trumpet – not really… It really doesn’t mean much. Really – I’m so tiny. So, so tiny. But it helps to remember when trying to finish a book that many people are ‘waiting’ for – that I can at least please myself with my efforts. And I have been writing. Lost in it. It’s not writing like this here – a mess. I’m compacting and compressing ideas and thoughts. Trying to shape everything because I can’t seem to shape anything else. In the book, I talk about the world, but it’s in there on the page, on a screen, stored in the microchips, and not that real world out there, really. It’s not really real is it? It’s just an echo of that world in words. I feel like a crusher, crushing the echoes onto paper. And sometimes I let the pressure off and let them reverberate.
It’s the 3rd and a half draft. I’m getting close now to giving the stuff to an editor, and who knows what she will bring to it. That will be an adventure. Whatever I’ve been doing with this book, it’s pretty nutty. It’s the world filtered through me – as if there was a separation between me and the world. As if the echoes were not also the world.
It breathes in size. I’m trying to fit everything in. Say everything. Understand the bigger picture and the smaller one and piece it together, and lay it out which is impossible for me. I’m getting to the point where it doesn’t matter anymore. I mean, at some point it will be what it is, and that point is coming. Not quite yet. I hope I’ll get it to you. Next year.

cabin 04

   What a luxury. I am living in Utopia, on the backdrop of hell. I squander this luxury by worrying. By not being fearless. By trying to make the words count too much. By getting depressed because I’m uncertain and lonely (sometimes), and the sludge is too much. And I’m a failure. Jeez.

   What now then? I want all these different threads of my life joined up somehow. I’m remembering Richard’s face, or Liz, or Peter, or… joyfully laughing about a shared something ten years ago, or one year ago. I know you’re at the end of a phone. There are so many of you. All these threads. And yeah I can’t keep you all, all the time. Mostly almost none of you any of the time at the moment. It’s another life suddenly, here. Exciting, yes sometimes. Confusing. Uncertain. I sound a bit sad, or like a man who woke up from a fake court case in a real midlife crisis – and there is sadness, or rather melancholy in this morning drowsiness, in me… I could wake up tomorrow and write a very different post. Optimistic. Enlivened. I’d leap out of bed.

   I’m still not quite sure what I should expect from this life, even after all this time, but I don’t feel content. Should I feel content with Rupert Murdoch in the world? Or Tony Blair. Or the extinctions…  I want it to be a party though, or an open house all the time. I want… I want teleportation. I want the mice in the walls to stop eating the cabin. I want the face of a person who grew up in the safety of a wise and kind tribe. To feel like I am part of the land, and it is part of me. To feel comfortable in the world, neither ‘owned’ nor knowing ownership, but instead shared belonging and safety. And you will be there, in your fullness – fearless and joyful. You do appear in my mind, really, and I hope to see you soon. I hope we can clean or remake this sludge soon. And hang out in a jovial and meaningful way.

Art of Climbing Trees page 263

Yep. One entry from the book.

   With the sun coming up, and my alarm going off I end. But my ego wins and I edit this a little bit a few days later – because sometimes my ego knows best.

Ps. My knee is mostly ok thanks – much better. I can run without falling over in agony. And this is a painting on the wall:

cabin 06

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The incredible tube in my throat

Get yourself a cup’a tea or a Brandy… I went off on one a bit…

me-as-patient

This isn’t another advert for my unpublished book, I promise, but in my book I’ve been writing (naively) about making utopia a goal. That dream that only gets mocked or disregarded. Despite the carnage we’ve wrought, I’m allowing myself to entertain the possibility. It’s a long haul project and I know I won’t be there for the grand opening. But it’s like that film ‘As good as it gets’, – Jack Nicholson looks around a psychiatrist’s waiting room and asks ‘what if this is as good as it gets?’ Have we given up to fizzling out under the insanity of corporate / elitist stupidity / greed and apathy?

pants

National Heath Service pants

I’ve been inspired to write something because last week the NHS breathed for me, literally. I didn’t realise until I was about to be drugged into oblivion that a general anaesthetic inhibits your bodies reflex to breathe, and a machine takes over the rhythmical delivery of gas, – pumping it through the pipe they slip down your throat. Completely nuts, and unnerving, – but it seems to work.
I guess I’ve got slightly crap knees, or I’ve put too much strain on them working in the theatre, and as a carpenter over the years. Without a previous knee operation eight years ago there’d have been no tree climbing.

inside-knee-pre-op

Inside me’gammy knee, – fluffy frayed meniscus.

So that’s twice now I’ve had life support in this way courtesy of the NHS, – for free. (I even forgot to pay my National Insurance as a result of being abroad so much writing, which for those people not familiar with the British system, comes in at about £80 per year. It’s supposed to cover a state pension and social security. I mention this to further embarrass, or inspire those wealthier nations with archaic insurance-based health care that simply doesn’t work for everyone).
The NHS gave me (a bad guess) of 50 people, with numerous skills, to deliver my repair, – from bureaucrats to programmers and nurses and cleaners etc. Care like this is one of the benefits of a complex society; that has given time for all these people to learn very specific skills, and keep an artist / filmmaker / writer / ‘carpenter’ fit enough to keep going. With this in mind I feel a greater duty to contribute to the betterment of this society, and that’s one of the intrinsic benefits of a social system, – that we feel we’re in it together. So far my way of returning the favour is translating what most of us know about the state of the world into rousing activating art, so we might snuff out our apathy and do something; that we might actually get to keep going for the next few hundred thousand years; that we might even thrive alongside other species. Not long term thinking at all. (I’m still working out how to get the rouse into the art).

A free, or should I say collectively paid for and egalitarian health service is progressive and compassionate. I believe that beneath the veil of our fostered individualism it is actually second nature, – ‘you look after your tribe’. In a complex society it is logical and utopian. The multicultural team at the hospital was from everywhere, which is also a facet of a utopian vision, – a global tribe of tribes. I take these many different faces for granted, but it’s pretty ‘futuristic’ when I think about it.
What a gift to be born in a place where the visionary Minister for Health Nye Bevan inspired people to this dream, and made it happen, even in a bombed and stress out Britain.

Documentary The Spirit of 45 gave me a perspective on post war socialism in the UK that I’d not grasped before. It’s actually an incredible story that was barely mentioned during my education.

I’m guessing the surgeon who reshaped my knee’s meniscus was Iranian, – a softly spoken gentleman who humbly sat down beside me on the floor to explain the operation (because there was nowhere else to sit, and I suppose he didn’t want to be looming over his patient). He also came to see how I was doing afterwards, and a nurse told me he always does, implying most of the surgeons don’t. When we spoke before hand, I asked him to look after my knee and be as least invasive as possible, because my knee is important to me. He looked me in the eye and said that I was important. There’s a great vulnerability to being gassed to sleep and opened up, and in my case the whole team gave me confidence in their ability.

inside-knee-post-op

Fluff removed from inside the knee using key hole surgery. Amazing.

I’ve revealed a little of the surgeon’s humanity to put flesh to my gratitude, and also context to my disbelief that any of these people should feel extra life-pressure as a result of where they were born. These are strange Brexity, anti-immigration, refugee paranoid times, and it’s all whipped up by an insidious media, and a government with an on going agenda to sell as much of our stuff before they’re voted out again. A debt-stressed public lap it up because they’re rightly angry and confused. ‘Fantastic – we have someone tangible to blame’.
Come to think of it, it makes me f***ing furious, – not only people who give their energy to heal the ‘British’ people are again being made to feel second-rate, but at the other end of this polarising society, children are left to fend for themselves in those burned down Calais camps. Many of our MP’s (on both sides of the fence), the Corporation lobbyists, the CEO’s and large sections of the media machine appear to be quite frankly disgusting heartless people, insulated from the realities of the world. To distract from their corruption at robbing us blind, they turn us ‘little people’ against each other.

There is an additional uncomfortable and ironic reality for my operation: the UK is now ranked the second largest seller of arms in the world. We know arms from the UK are fuelling the Syrian conflict for example, forcing people to leave their bombed homes and float in limbo for years. Some of them arrived to Calais, perhaps following their families who arrived here to the UK before them, – who were perhaps among those engaged with fixing my knee. And finally, coming full circle, those weapons we sold causing this trouble, paid for the treatment.
On that note, there’s a bronze Winston Churchill standing beneath a tree, in the shadow of Big Ben. (A tree I was stopped from climbing by the Police and Heritage Wardens, but that’s another story). Winston’s bloody-minded genius may have helped win World War II, but what is less frequently mentioned is that he was also responsible for the starvation of four million people in India. He was at the centre of exploiting the Middle East for their oil, which helped set the scene for the current animosity. The man who is constantly put on a pedestal was an elitist, racist, psychopath.

tree-57

Churchill is hiding behind the tree, – that little sneak.

It was the socialist Labour Party who maintained any ‘greatness’ in Britain, in the post-war era. It was Labour’s solidarity ideals that lifted us to a new chapter of collective consciousness; we were in it together in war and then finally also in peace. I’d like to see a statue of Clement Attlee (socialist post war PM), or Nye Bevan of equal or greater stature on Parliament Square, to give balance to our beloved warmonger. I’m actually a member of the Green Party so I’m not canvassing for Labour (though I’d be very happy with Jeremy Corbyn as PM).
Even more pressing than statues: I’d like the NHS staff celebrated with all the honour they deserve, – not pushed to their limit and begging for more resources with patients suffering under the stress. (I know horror stories exist in a stretched NHS, but I blame those cutting corners for profit, rather than employees, which is what the Daily Mail would have us think). It’s a service at the front line of our lives, and our deaths.

   Dismantling the NHS and the wider erosion of solidarity is a challenge to our complex society’s most sacred utopian achievements, – a culturally global team working together for the care of all citizens.

And yet, whether or not Theresa May and her government continue selling our health service to their friends becomes insignificant when faced with her disinterest in climate change and biodiversity degradation. We’ve recently heard the good news that we’ll hit the 2/3rd mark of wiping out the animal kingdom by 2020, which means we’re pretty close to achieving that already. Coral reefs are bleaching out and dying with acidification of the oceans. If we only consider the singular factor that one billion people rely on fish for their sustenance, – when the food chain in the seas collapses entirely (90% has already been rinsed out by our practices), there’s going to be a serious mass migration of desperate people. If ignorant white people are worried about immigration, they should get with the climate change program.


Leonardo DiCaprio’s new film Before the Flood, is a little toothless in my book, (which isn’t that surprising since Rupert Murdock now owns National Geographic), and the film gives most of the solution to carbon taxation and technology. For example, he interviews Elon Musk who has built one lithium battery ‘giga-factory’, and he claims 100 of them could transition the world to clean electrical storage capacity. He doesn’t mention where all the lithium is going to come from, – from mines under the forests? And Elon is a smart guy, – it’s as if you can tell he’s not mentioned the lithium problem, because it makes Leonardo so happy to hear how easy transitioning could be, – ‘just build another 99 factories’. ‘We barely need to change our lifestyles at all’.
Carbon taxation is a good idea to some extent, however it would only go to support the inequality already present in the financial system, so the rich can just pay to pollute. Dr.David Fleming, who I’ll give you more of shortly has devised an energy quotas system that would avoid marginalising the poor in the process of transition. Have a look at Tradable Energy Quotas (TEQs). Before the Flood is still well worth a watch. It is rousing and that’s what we need. To quote marine biologist Jeremy Jackson:

   “There will always be life in the ocean, but it’s not going to be necessarily the kind of life we want. We could go back to three billion years ago and just have a whole lot of slime”.

Wow. That’s one hell of a monoculture, and this is the world the elites are selling to each other on our behalf. It’s obviously ironic, – what they get for their money is not a capitalist paradise with cocktails on sandy beaches and ‘little people’ in white suits at their service. They’re buying the setting for an apocalypse, and a clean slate for Mother Earth to birth something new.

While I’m writing this, the postman arrives with a glistening new copy of Lean Logic: A Dictionary for the Future and How to Survive it, by David Fleming who I was lucky enough to meet.

lean-logic-book

I bought the first version (complete with some typos), printed six months after David Fleming’s untimely death. Now it’s been tidied up a bit by Shaun Chamberlin and released again by publisher Chelsea Green. It really is a beautiful book; old skool qualidy.

The dictionary imagines the world post cheap energy, and a world in which there is still enough stability of climate for us humans to live. He imagines perhaps the collapse has arrived before we completely polish off the last vestiges of hope, which sounds like an oxymoron. In other worlds, the collapse is our last hope if we don’t change our ways ASAP.

lean-logic-play

The first page I opened to was David’s entry on PLAY. Appropriate for me, with an even more appropriate and beautiful woodcut print! (Reproduced without permission. I hope you don’t mind Chelsea Green).

I’m wondering what David Fleming has to say about Health Care in his post market economy scenario…

lean-logic-lean-health

…And then there are several pages to describe the general picture of Diet, Medicine, Treatment, Behaviour, Exercise, and in general, one of the foundations of David’s Lean Logic: the informal economy. Looking through this lens made me think that already, the NHS doesn’t stop at the walls of the hospital. I was collected by my good friend Leonie, and fed, and made to feel safe in her home while the anaesthetic was still stewing my brain; she was an informal economy nurse you might say. Our NHS would be less than half of what it is without the love of our communities. Lean logic in this way, makes the future with less resources and complexity look possible, and to some extent desirable. Though we’re unlikely to have MRI machines and such if / when this thing collapses. For me, when the shit hits the fan I’d better hope my elbows don’t give in as well. Buy Lean Logic here. I highly recommend it.

Getting back to a less viable projection of the future…

Everything the British government is doing is leading us to that ocean of slime. Literally everything. From slashing support of renewables, to approving hydraulic fracturing, nuclear at Hinckley, a third runway at Heathrow Airport, and demoralising us all with their overall welfare cuts and tax breaks for corporations and banks. They are the lovers of money, individualism and power, and totally detached. THEY MUST BE STOPPED.

lean-logic-death

I’m simply repeating the warnings we’ve heard for nearly 60 years. The difference now is the signs are revealing their deadly outcomes. The difference now is we’re getting numb to it all, and they’ve made us to feel we’re powerless. It’s as if we’re all anaesthetised by confusion and consumption and work (to pay invented debts), and we’re letting them get on with harvesting our organs while we’re asleep, – harvesting our souls.

 

tree-260

Fossil fuels are keeping us alive unnaturally while we’re out cold; powering the ‘machine’ supplying oxygen to the tube in our throats; the food on our tables, our means of earning a living, – everything. When the dominoes of biodiversity fall for real there will be no team of experts with a defibrillator, because they too will be scrambling to breathe, staggering around in an anaesthetised stupor. Then we’ll just become part of that sludge washing about in the ocean. How about that!? You think I’m a drama queen king?

   If nothing else, I just think it’s humiliating to end this at the mercy of a detached group of pompous, greedy, deluded people wielding a financial system that’s so obviously a massive con.

choose-your-weapon

It’s the 5th of November but I’m not calling for gunpowder or beheadings, – they are my cousins after all. They just need different jobs with much less responsibility. I’m hoping for a very civilised and utopian revolution ASAP. What if two million people arrived at Parliament, or the Daily Mail, or the Sun newspaper HQ and just told them it’s home time? It’s not as if the Government was voted for by an informed public, – or I should say the information given to the public was flawed. Therefore the government’s legal status to decide hasn’t come from any kind of real democracy. There has to be two million people in Britain who have woken enough from sleep to act? A Peaceful Green Coup? Hmmmmm. Crikey. Naive? Yep. Frightening? Surely 2 million of us can put our heads together and come up with something? At least, everyone ‘conscious’ needs to be acting. Dong something beyond signing petitions and recycling.

I can walk with confidence again and so I’ll end with a massive thank you to the formal and informal NHS! Writing a blog post to try and save us from slumber isn’t enough thanks, and Nye’s dream wasn’t only built on ideals and knowledge and speeches. The time to wake and act is now, ‘the ‘end’ of the world is…’

I’ll keep you informed of my actions…

 

World Piece for sale!

I’m so close to holding the 1st readable draft of Art of Climbing trees, but I could do with a smidgen of help for the ‘last’ grunt up towards the light!

world-piece-shop

Essentially I’m broke and I’ve damaged my knee, so raising money in the usual way is tricky. I came up with a kookie scheme to tide me over, AND more importantly to get this draft done before my 40th birthday in less than two weeks! (40? WHAT! Who did that to me? Just five years ago I was a boy climbing trees).

So, I’m selling World Piece… for as little as £3! Unbelievable! Incredible! Amazing! How does he do it?! WOW!

I’ve made a film explaining the idea, that I hope you’ll ENJOY, and SHARE…!

Here’s a direct link to the World Piece shop if you don’t have time but want ‘what you always wanted’.

I hope you like the idea…

Henrik

 

Surviving the Future

Naivety is a small word to describe my belief that I could write the Art of Climbing Trees in three months. In June of 2014 I started my crowd fund and planned to deliver the book by December. It was just going to be a case of editing my tree climbing diaries and interviews. Easy. I’ve been at it for nearly two years now, plus the year of collecting all the material. People are tenacious all the time, and it’s true that maintaining belief is a curious journey. I’m in a kind of purgatory of my own design and it’s very strange.

Surviving the Future

The kind of concerns you might expect in writing a book that other people might actually read, (and the cabin fever induced madness) have often been made a little lighter when I remember Dr David Fleming (who I interviewed for my book in an Oak tree on Hampstead Heath), who spent decades writing Lean Logic: A Dictionary for the Future and How to Survive it. He was literally just finishing the enormous work when I met him. He was amusingly self effacing about it, and I’m relating to what he said more by the day. Here’s an edited section of our conversation. Beth Barton was also with us, who was working with David as researcher and editor:

Henrik: So you are a holistic economist? David: Yes, yes. Beth: Well there is a lot of anthropological stuff actually isn’t there, in Lean Logic, which is interesting. D: Yeah, and it could be taken to the cleaners.. I keep getting constant flack from friends and people, people pointing me in the street, ‘see how that poor fellow over there ..he’s been writing this book for the last 20 years. He will never finish it’, but then they say ‘he is a nice fellow, just don’t mention the book’, (laughing) ..I am in real trouble. Henrik: I really want to read it. David: I am very glad you said that, I am very glad.

I feel lucky to have met David before his untimely death just a few weeks after our meeting. Is that what’s called tragic irony for him, as a writer? Certainly grief for those who knew him, and a great loss to the world without anyone realising it. Rob Hopkins wrote:

“I would unreservedly go as far as to say that David Fleming was one of the most original, brilliant, urgently needed, under rated, and ahead of his time thinkers of the last 50 years”. 

I had no idea really who I was in a tree with, and that is further credit to David. He was clearly brilliant and equally modest. His masterpiece lives on however. The 600 page dictionary is newly republished (and really should be on every book shelf of every home in every land), and there’s also an ‘abridged’ version (pictured above), edited and reorganised by David’s friend and colleague Shaun Chamberlin.

Here’s the review I wrote for Surviving the Future on Amazon:

Never a more appropriate title for a book right at the very moment it is needed. And the contents hit the spot too… We’re living in strange, unsettling illusory times at the end of the market economy bubble. When that bubble bursts we’re going to need solid grounded ideas for how to collaborate as a society; as communities without money being the central pivot. For me the exciting question is what could the future be like? How could we function in a healthier way without the mechanics of corporate infrastructure and fossil fuel? How do we make it go round, and with more personal autonomy, joy and contentment thrown in too? (What! Not joy!? Surely not!) This book summarises the practical and philosophical challenges ahead and offers solutions with clarity and humanity. Alright! Tempted?

Chapter and subheadings include:
A framework for community.
Rediscovering a life of place and play.
The path from here to there.
Manners.
Slack.
Post market-economics.
Eroticism.
Needs and wants.
Growth.
Population and food.
The wheel of life.

Surviving the Future - David Fleming

I’m honoured to have made a small contribution to this story, – a photo I took of David on that blustery afternoon in 2010 was chosen for the book by publisher Chelsea Green.

I’m saying two things with this post:
To myself, ‘keep running / writing and drink lots of water’, and the same goes for you in your world saving endeavours. And secondly, it should be obvious, while you’re ‘waiting’ for the Art of Climbing Trees, get yourself a copy of Surviving the Future, and if you really want to survive the future get the dictionary as well.

A little more from:

David: ..After the shock we will be thinking of building a new world.. We won’t have capitalism, it won’t exist, and therefore we all will be extremely poor ..We may not even have a government but they won’t have any income, they won’t be able to raise any taxes because we won’t have any jobs and ..they won’t be able to pay for education or police service or defence or hospitals or social security or any other thing you can think about. Under these circumstances how do we organise our communities without all these things being provided by government? ..With great difficulty is the first answer to that.. And then I develop lots and lots of ideas about how to do it, and some of the ideas are more successful than others. For example Lean Defence is very difficult..

Tree_172__12_uptrees.net

The Great Dr David Fleming, (1940-2010). Humour, intellect, humility, kindness. A man with his head screwed on and heart warm.

Cooking a tree. And book Update.

Cooking a tree, radio show and book update: Art of Climbing (Trees)

Richard-St-BArbe-BAker

Cousin travellers…

It’s six years since I climbed my first tree for the book! Time certainly flies. One more year and all the cells in my body will have been swapped out, so they say. That guy who once climbed trees will be scattered to the four winds and a new guy will stand in his place, – holding a published book!

I made a special tree based cooking show film broadcast for the six year anniversary occasion celebration experience of the book writing festival perseverance initiation celebration. Click here or on the image to view.

Art-of-Climbing-Trees-youtube

I read some ‘rough’ extracts from the book for a radio show, due to be broadcast on 26th May at 11am here bcfmradio.com. You can hear it world wide. This will be the first outing of any of this book. Ahhhhg. You can hear it afterwards too by clicking SHOWS on the station website and choose SILVERSOUND, and the date of broadcast.

Kalvåg room

From the window of my latest writing garret I hear the waves that sound like a massive dog gently licking the harbour side. I’ve been invited to be artist in residence here in Kalvåg on the west coast of Norway, and as well as writing the book I’m dreaming up ideas for the village.

There’s an amazing supermarket bin just over the road where I get most of my food, and I’ve been eating like a working class aristocrat. I could feed a few households with the good food they dump. The other day I also found two dozen roses and a pot plant to brighten up my room with.

‘Art of Climbing (Trees)’ is getting closer to being ready enough to show people for feedback and publishing contracts (with a six figure deal etc).

I should be here for another five weeks, watching the moon slowly drag the tide in and out of the village, – if I don’t go mad with cabin fever. (See the film).

I hope this finds you well, and thanks again for the support…

Henrik x

PS. Richard St. Barbe Baker. Involved with, or inspired the planting of an estimated 26 billion trees. Inspires me.

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