Darren: Michael, awesome experiences, kind of breaking and entering at the end of the world. 2016 is one of these years …
Michael: Well, Darren, strange things going on. I have yet to sort out. Normally I’m good in sorting out. Clearing the mind. Going inside. Do you know that state of mind where the ego is turning into a sort of windmill … The Windmills of Your Mind … special experience. But let’s go back to traveling. Now that I’ve told you some about my little adventures in Northern Scotland, all these stories of rain, fog and deserted houses with ancient record players, can you shed some light on your experiences in Somerset?
Darren: Sure. Stocklinch is part of Somerset. I once sat on a pew with a blank mind, doodling with sounds on an Ipad, feeling out of place and lonely. I was exhausted and possibly having first doubts about my project. Ros Harding walked into the church and looked me up and down. She had a cloud of white hair and bright, wide eyes. I was thinking about how to best express myself when Ros said „Would you like to come round my house and have a cheese sandwich?“
Michael: Sounds nice. Someone inviting you for a cheese sandwich. I surely love being invited for a cheese sandwich. You never know. It doesn’t happen too often.
Darren: Michael, they were the most beautiful opening words I’d heard from a stranger and right then there was nothing I wanted more than a cheese sandwich, and a good talk. Ros was a church warden. I helped her turn on the gas heaters for the evening service before walking back to her home. Ros told a story about the upper and lower church and a painting that travelled between them.
