Santon Downham
The drive from Great Yarmouth
is long; my Walkman offers solace in the form of Guns N’ Roses. I don’t know
where in the forest we’re camping, somewhere near Santon Downham mother says. The
track leading from the main road is rough, littered with pine cones and deep
vehicle ruts, our secluded camp a heathy glade between the trees. Unloading the
contents of an overstuffed car boot, we begin to erect the tent; it’s my first
time hammering in metal pegs and fixing guy ropes, but it soon takes shape as the
light fades. After a meal of baked beans and sausages by the camp fire I
squeeze into my sleeping bag as a rumble of thunder echoes in the distance. The
inevitable downpour follows; rain lashes the tent, guy ropes whip around
uncontrollably. I turn up my Walkman to drown out the monsoon: welcome to the
jungle.
sheet lightning
filling the dark space
between memories
Santon Downham is a village in Thetford Forest, eastern England.
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