Work has been extremely hard the last few days, and I’ve been too tired in the evenings to write anything. I can only really type when it gets dark, as I don’t want to draw attention to my wristpad, and have to try to explain it (and probably face having to fight for it, and the head of this household is also headman of the village, and he and his wife have the bulk of the prestigious items – particularly jewellery). Fortunately, although it’s a lot warmer here than the last world I was in, it’s still cold enough for me to keep my sleeves rolled down in the day, and I don’t think anyone has noticed it.

The headman is a big, bulky bloke – and very fit, of course, with all the hard work around here. I certainly wouldn’t want to have to fight him. He’s about my height, but a couple of stones heavier, and about ten years older too – I’d guess he’s in his mid-thirties, although his face (like everyone else’s) is so weather-beaten I could be out by twenty years.

I’m still struggling with the language – I’m not even sure what his name is. The others call him something like Fou-el, but I suspect that’s a title rather than a name. Still, it’s what I call him too – he doesn’t seem to object. In my mind, though, I think of him as Phil.

I’m afraid it’s really hard to see what I’m doing – this small oil lamp (a wick, floating in a small dish of oil, actually) doesn’t really give enough light to see the small symbols on this touch-pad, so I think I’m going to have to stop now. Will try to write again tomorrow about the life of this community.