I will find peace in the woods. Take the noose off me first.

Hobbling, bent double, and limp armed with hammer fatigue. Also, driven mad with constant demands for den building.

Every item of junk from house now strewn over garden. Includes ten-year old sun umbrella found behind hedge, pressed into service as new den roof.

I may sue Interaction for mental pain and psychological abuse, unleashed on Monday.

But I am Grit. I remain determined not to die. And it is Wednesday, and Wednesday means fun in the woods. Rain is pissing down. Never mind.

Hunting down the woodland playworker we find him stringing up netting between trees.


Tiger attacks that while I lie on the cool woodland floor and groan.


Next, swinging on a rope. Her, not me.

I complete a course of woodland therapy by basket weaving a furry woollen fish and hanging it in the trees where I can watch it gently swim through the air.