I last visited the mainland back in early June. My abiding memory is of cycling through wide flat fenland with the moon hanging huge in the sky.
I came here in March, for a few weeks. I'm staying on for the summer, I told my friends in May. I'm staying on through the winter, I told them in August.
I've resigned my job, I told them in September. I shall be a lady of leisure, and study and make rag rugs and read poetry. I shall go on holiday and bake cakes and take walks and dream. Perhaps I'll write.
The season is changing, and jobs are coming up all around. I'll probably work some of this winter. I expect to work here next summer. I have my room on a week's notice, and from the window I can see the sea.