Did you know I get an extreme parasympathetic nervous response that shoots like electricity up the back of my thighs when someone gets hurt? It could be a paper cut, or a severed finger - no matter, I have to stomp my legs to get rid of the painful sensation that shoots through my body in extreme empathy. It's debilitating, and is getting worse over the years. It could even be telling me the story, like last week when I was surfing and someone was telling me how they were in recovery because they had severed the top half of their hand cutting palings with a machine. They sewed it back on, and he was paddling again, but still. Friggin ouch. So the idea of spending the weekend doing first aid - yeah nah, as Aussies say - I like the idea, but I'll pass.

We bought a 14ft trailer sailer last year. We took it out for a sail on a lake, the wind came up and Jamie started shouting at me to pull the rope and I'm like - what rope? Which one do you mean? He's shouting and I'm scared and crying and so he took the sails down, we motored back to shore, and he sold the boat. So I'm not going sailing, either.

Every day I've been practicng my archery, so although I'd love to get lessons this weekend, they're coming. In our town we have a woman who came fourth for the world archery championships and she is happy to give us some lessons.

As for either knitting or sewing, I have a post coming tomorrow that will explain exactly whilst I'd rather shoot myself with an arrow than do that.

Growing fresh produce? Nailed it already. Although I wish I could eat half the weeds that are plaguing me out there. Realistically, though Hive account@galenkp's list of things we could choose to do has many options, most of them, well, been there done that, or am in the process of doing them, or will never do them again. And I aint ever going to drive a rally car, though banger racing looks hilarious fun and Jamie and I very nearly got into it, after one fantastic day watching it in a field somehwere in Dorset. Plus, the caravandalism was hilarious, where people were smashing old caravans into each other. I didn't realise that could be so much fun.

So from the Weekend Experiences list, it's navigating with map and compass for me. I'm not very good at directions, mainly as I don't really practice it. Like anything, 10,000 hours is required to be an expert, but who has that amount of time for getting lost in the bush with no GPS or google maps?

What really appeals to me is that if you need a compass, there's probably been an EMP event or something that has totally taken out the internet and that appeals to me enormously. I'm so freaking sick of being connected all the time, and there being an app for goddamn everything, even the things that don't need an app. I can say that with complete irony, as here I am on the internet, writing a blog post about wishing I wasn't.

Here, we call it going bush - please don't snigger, I can hear you - to escape into the woods or wilds, perhaps for some time. It's about adventure and escape, about living off the land, and for me, being at one with it.

And who doesn't long, in some way, for that.

Pass me the map and compass.

With Love,

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