Sat 10th August . “I’m lying in the shepherd’s hut on a wooden bed under a wooden boarded roof like a pine tent, and horizontal pine panelled walls. Each time a nail has pierced the wood it has bled a nasty stain, creeping along the grain, blurred, as though the wood on the wagon itself were travelling at speed. A woodpecker shrieks across the field. A wasp worries the window-pane, then zig-zags above the bed.