Blog posts can be written anywhere, even in a garden on the shore, by a stretch of warm and shallow water screened off from the road by trees and hidden from the boats by singing reeds, in the company of cormorants and dragon flies, ducks on the water, starlings in the sky - and was that a beaver in the darkness? Or perhaps a wild pig, or a badger, snuffling around the tent?
Even on that first day, as I slipped into the water in a burst of summer rain, I was already in another space. An empty space, a vacant space. I've been on holiday.