"The world's all to pieces, isn't it? They're like a lot of rats and mice in England. They don't know what they are going to do. It's a good job the moon's well up there too. I've got room enough to swing a sledgehammer underneath him without hitting of him. He's well out of my way. But if they had their way they'd get the moon down you know and they'd be trying to wheel him along the road on two wheels ..."
Good to hear of a rare screening of The Moon And The Sledgehammer, happening at the wonderfully-named new Brighton club of nature-inspired culture, The Hedgerow Society, on 21 January. I forget when I saw this early 70s documentary (somewhere in the suitably distant past) but finding the trailer on YouTube proved, even in two minutes, that it was as unsettling and compelling as I vaguely remembered. It's like a lived outsider art, with a curious family who live an isolated, unworldly existence in East Sussex woodland, cut off from modern society, obsessed with their steam engines, talking of the dangers of TV or the existence of sea-serpents, and with dark undercurrents to the apparent pastoral idyll.