Oak comes to the rescue, yet again. This laptop sits on a cork mat which prevents the cold hard aluminium edge of the camping table, which provisionally serves as my writing desk, from digging into my my wrists. I send heartfelt thanks to the cork oaks of Spain, Portugal and southern France, where the raw materials for this mass-produced natural cork-fragment mat were likely harvested. Years ago, visiting the chalet in Provence belonging to a family friend, I was struck by the cork oaks on the hillsides. Pale, stripped of their precious bark up to the height of the pollard, they looked like strange arboreal lambs after first shearing, likewise suffering no harm, perhaps only a sensation of sudden bareness to the elements no human could ever know.

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I am experiencing the period of adjustment of a newly transplanted shrubby herb. Great care has been taken over the siting, aspect and soil. Water, air and light are provided gratis by the Great Mystery, via the condensation of the angel’s share of the Tyne, the action of gravity on bodies possessing mass, and the electromagnetic emanations of our nearest star. I thank Physics for its pared-back beatitudes, rarely bettered by a poet. Although I feel I certainly will, whether or not I root and sprout well again is truly out of my hands. And so I turn to silent, spoken and embodied prayer.

This podcast was first published with full transcript, footnotes, links and photos here on Substack on October 8th 2025.

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