Not Sparkle Arkle

After a week of filming and demolition the fluff is rising, especially from the loathesome loose insulation erratically scattered in the roof space. I never thought I would find pink fibreglass superior, but this stuff is just awful, can't even be shovelled efficiently. I have swept and vacuumed but it must still be free-floating.

I have the four lengthwise joists and all of the sheathing down, and spent an hour this afternoon pulling nails out with a crowbar to reuse the wood. It made the most fantastic noise, a loud, sustained, vibrating shriek which I mightily enjoyed. It sounded a bit like a very loud duck call, but no ducks this afternoon when yesterday there were dozens, and egrets, stilts and even a couple of cormorants, my beloved swallows too but the most joyful and bold of all, an emerald hummingbird no bigger that two joints of my little finger, who hovered just two feet in front of my face, checking me out. I saw him this morning on my way to Mary, feeding from the fuchsia hedge where I think the nest was.

My new CD of 2046 has arrived and I have been soaking myself in the complexity and richness of the music, flooded by memories of the feeling of the film, the colours and faces.