All You Need Is Words
As it’s fairly chucking down here at Kandamala’s awesomely odd eco-lodge in monsoon-ridden Sri Lanka, I’m in a forest recycling centre, learning how paper-trims from junk mail get turned into beautiful paper by mixing it with elephant dung.
I remember how the ‘newpapers’ like the Daily Mail tried to smear Chris Ofili, the excellent Turner prize winner, for using elephant dung in his paintings, implying that it was somehow typical for foreigners to try and blag prize money with exotic poo.
In fact, elephant dung gives the new paper a beautiful texture, rather like soft parchment. After the trims are turned into pulp, the sheets are wrung out and dried in racks, then made into elegant diaries and notebooks, where they await the addition of words.
I’ve also including a picture of the monkeys who stole my teabags this morning, but only to name and shame them. You know who you are.
Meanwhile the lake waters rise and the roads are becoming a bit dodgy. Our car made it across this road, but it was touch and go. In two days’ time I’ll attempt to outrun the storms by driving to the opposite coast. I’ve been watching eagles drop from the trees, and got slightly too close to an angry cobra today, so I’m going to kick back with an elephant dung book now. Let’s see the Kindle do that!