Salt from the earth

The days are beginning to coalesce. I no longer know what day it is nor how long we have been on the boat. The plants bordering the water are like yesterday's and those we saw the day before.

I do know it was this morning that we saw a half-sunken narrow-boat blocking half the canal under needles of rain. And because I was keen to see and photograph them, I know that it was today we saw these saltworks south of Middlewich where salt has been extracted from the rocks for 2,000 years and where 57% of the salt used in UK cooking is produced.

Apart from that: teaching English to a lovely bunch of people, laughter, perplexity, developing friendships, passing my pint round so everyone can taste 'bitter', thinking on my feet to produce definitions of words...

Now, in the fading light, most of our group are at the pub, I am alone inside the boat and I can hear youngsters, one French, one German, talking in English on the roof. Last night they needed me to mediate, this evening they are managing on their own. They have no idea that they are demolishing the years between themselves and me. Why should they? When I was 18 and talked the languages away, it never crossed my mind that the older people around me had ever done the same.

I love their bright enthusiasm,  their idealism, their determination and all that they don't know. I ache for the best for them.