It’s difficult to find the right words to describe this place. ‘Primitive’ sprang to mind, but I wouldn’t want to give the impression that the people here are intellectually backward in any way. They’re really bright – at least, as far as I can tell, because communication isn’t the easiest thing.

I’m not sure what language they’re speaking. Odd words are English, and at times whole sentences seem to making sense. In general though, it’s a language I’ve never heard, and which doesn’t sound much like any European ones I know. There’s a hint of Scandinavian, and a bit of German – but sometimes whole days go by with not a single word spoken that I can recognise.

Still, with a bit of mime, and a few common words, I get by.

The buildings, certainly, might be described as primitive. Raking up what I can remember from the archaeology course I did years ago, I’d say they are similar to those of the Middle Ages. They are proper buildings, not round huts or the like. The have timber frames, thatched roofs, and walls infilled with wicker-work, covered with mud (and other substances, I suspect – there are certainly hairs sticking out of the piece of wall I’m leaning against). I think that’s what’s called wattle-and-daub.

But they do have glass windows. Not very clear glass, to be sure, but glass nevertheless. They are warm, and dry, and serve their purpose very well. Inside the building where I’ve been housed, wall hangings are clean and fresh, the rushes on the floor are changed daily. It’s actually very comfortable.

So ‘primitive’ may not be the word, but it’s certainly not the world I came from, either.

The sun’s gone down, so work has now stopped, and although the primitive oil lamp I’m allowed to use doesn’t give fantastic light, I can see enough to type.

I’ve settled here among a community of farmers. Actually that’s not the right word – if in your mind it sets up an image of tractors and combines. This is a primitive agricultural community – almost subsistence living. Still, it’s labour-intensive, which means I was able to offer my services in exchange for bread and a bed.

The village has pigs, chickens and a few cattle – but the livestock is like nothing I’m used to. The cows have huge, curved horns, and are about 50% taller than any cow I’ve ever seen – they really are quite threatening. The pigs, on the other hand, are much smaller, scruffier and hairier than pigs from ‘my’ world.

I’ll write more about the community here, but the light really is getting bad, and it’s too much of a strain to write further today.

Well, I survived – but only just. I spent most of my time in Norwich scavenging for food and firewood – and trying to keep warm.

My wristpad packed up completely, and wouldn’t work even after I was sent here, where temperatures are about back to normal (I think – although it does seem very warm to me, but that may just be a reaction after spending months in freezing temperatures). Then, yesterday, I spotted that there seemed to be some signs of life. I think the battery must have been completely discharged, and so it took more than just some warmth and sunlight to bring it back to life.

Anyway, I’m here, alive, and reporting back.

I’m being called to work by the farmer I’m staying with, so will have to close – will try to write again tomorrow.