This week Mark and I took a couple of days to play hooky, and drove to the mountains. And I know people say bad things about Airbnb. And to be honest, most of the time, those people might actually be me. But not this week though, because me and Mr Tweddle managed to rent an actual log cabin nestled in a pine forest.
The cabin, unsurprisingly, was made of pine, as was a great deal of the furniture inside. It was beautiful pine furniture though, and not at all like the yellow varnished horrors of the 1980s.
Whilst I’m on this point, I don’t generally find myself encouraging conspiracy theorists - but I have to say, I’m sort of amazed that conspiracy theorists have never claimed the 1980s didn’t actually happen.
Because really, in terms of evidence for your average conspiracy theorist, they'd have a lot to go on. Because it is actually hard to believe a time really existed when shoulder pads were a must and eye shadow had to be applied with a trowel. And half a ton of hairspray in your backcombed barnet was obligatory - sorry about that, ozone layer. And every stylish home was a homage to over-varnished ‘country style’ yellow pine furniture.
Anyway, because I was born when dinosaurs roamed the earth, I can absolutely confirm that the 1980s actually did exist. During that time, I remember the very real struggle between my self-worth and my teenage acne. I remember moving into my first apartment (or flat as it’s known back in the old country), and I remember trying to get my head round the idea that some people actually liked Margaret Thatcher.
As unbelievable as it must seem nowadays, people used to sit down and have actual discussions and proper disagreements about politics. But that was the old days when people would spout opinions they’d somehow constructed themselves rather than off some meme they’d read, and when it was very generally agreed that anyone who waved a swastika wasn’t a good guy. Like I say, it seems so far from now that any self-respecting conspiracy theorist could easily have a field day.
Anyway, our cabin in the mountains was magical. Nestled in the woods with mountains all around us, it was so unbelievably quiet, with only the sounds of animals in the forest pottering about. For the first hour or so, Mark and I were a bit dazed and bewildered - like when you walk out of a venue that’s been playing really loud music, and your ears need some time to adjust.
Phone reception was dodgy and wifi was an effort, so for the most part we were cell phone free. That was kind of lovely too. It made me realize how much of my life is interrupted by the phone. Not actual calls - because who does that anymore? - but texts and notifications from apps I’m sure I’ve already deleted, but apparently somehow haven’t.
Sitting in the piney oasis, it crossed my mind that it's not surprising I feel like I’m constantly chasing my tail, because in this era of the 2020s, it’s almost impossible to have the space to finish an entire thought without some form of technological interference. There's always something ‘supposedly important’ that needs my immediate attention. It's like I've forgotten that it takes time and space to actually consider.
Anyway, because Arthur gets ridiculously stressed if I’m further than 6 foot away from him, we took him with us on the trip. And who could have possibly known that the dog with the shortest legs on the planet is, in fact, part mountain goat? The only thing he loved more than a trek was a good old sniff at all things foresty.
He would have loved it if we’d just opened the door in our piney cabin and let him roam free. But it was not to be, because there are bears in the California mountains, and also mountain lions, and for either of those creatures, Arthur would make a delightful amuse-bouche.
We took him on plenty of walks though, and at night, when we sat outside just looking at the stars, he would sit on my knee, calm, like everything in Nature was exactly where it ought to be.
Though the locals mostly kept to themselves (the extrovert personality type doesn’t often settle in the middle of a forest on the top of a mountain), there were signs all over town not to feed the bears, and not to leave food outside. Mark, who reads up on such things, explained that if you leave food outside the cabin, the bears will come, and that might be oh so entertaining for a couple of wildlife photos. But then, when you leave, the bears will still come back looking for food, and whoever is in the cabin will be at risk from hungry, angry bears, creating danger for everyone. And all because some arsehole thought it would be cute to feed the bears in the first place. (It’s really just Nature’s version of putting guys with political ambitions on reality TV shows.)
The mountain lions though, are a whole other story. Apparently, the mountain lions might just appear because they feel like it, and it’s a good idea to keep your children close, as lions seem to be particularly fond of them.
I guess that it’s unrealistic to think that everything in the world ought to be safe just because we want it to be. Predators do exist, especially amongst those who need to feel powerful.
Mountain time did wonders for our heads, and we arrived back in LA on Friday. Lachlan and Fergus had done a sterling job taking care of things, and it felt great to be back. Arthur was glad to be home and immediately ran out into the backyard to check on the chickens. Genghis was a bit miffed that we’d been gone for a couple of days, but it’s all very well asking if you can take your dog to an Airbnb, but I don’t reckon they’d be so keen on you taking your rooster.
And then on Saturday, we left Arthur home, and all four of us headed out to the No Kings march. And though it was an assault on the ears and completely the opposite of the silence of the forest, it really was as beautiful. People walked and danced, and held signs and chanted, and there was a lot of laughter and friendship and community.
As I walked, a woman beside me turned, her eyes brimming with tears. “I almost didn’t come because I was afraid, but now I’m here, I can’t believe how emotional I feel. It’s beautiful,” she said
“It really is,” I agreed. And I meant it.
So, over the next few days, weeks, months, or years, I have no idea what the conspiracy theorists will tell you happened on October 18th, 2025. Because it seems the reporting of truth is no longer as important as the drive to get our phones, and computers, to ding or beep, or to interrupt our thoughts with outrage or fear or anger.
But having been on the march myself, I can tell you that it was lovely. Truly lovely. Unlike the 1980s to be honest. And with far less hairspray.
xo
PS: If you post a wee click on the heart emoji to like it, some bears will get together for a potluck - that’s not entirely guaranteed obviously, but it wont half do wonders for my algorithm.
P. P. S: If you enjoy talking/listening/stories/ random facts, come and join me and Mr Tweddle at Fish and Bear.
And because I am totally showing off - look, I have a book for sale.
Volume 2 is available now: US, UK, Can, Aus
Audiobook link https://amzn.to/3Dh0MVP
If you do buy a copy, please leave a review on the site as it helps people know that I write in proper sentences… erm sometimes xo
I'm happy you got to the march and found it so exhilarating. It was wonderful to watch from here in Canada, to see the numbers of people who want to stand up for their constitution. Bravo.
Your description of being semi-off the grid experience reminded me of the time a guidance counselor came to our school to talk to our eighth grade classes. It was to help us understand what we should plan for in our future endeavors. He explained to us that computers, the coming thing in 1962, would do so much of the work for us so and we'd be buried in free time. I'm still waiting for that day.
Cheers!