Good days...
for Knots in the String...
Mail delivery. Two little pears that sit on the stripped timber cabinet as if born to it. And on Instagram, I saw that someone I follow is a part of a snailmail movement around the world. What a fabulous thing! I share letters with an historical fiction writer friend in Sweden and I absolutely love it when a letter arrives in our letterbox. Beats Amazon parcels hands down!
A performance by the Australian Ballet. My first live concert attendance for over two years, thanks to Covid 19.
So nice to dress up. Well, it would have been if I hadn’t dropped liquid foundation on a little black knit and chiffon cardi I have never worn. Or that I got the same foundation in my hair and laddered a stocking. Still, a trench coat covers a multitude of sins and I managed to sponge the foundation from my hair. It proves I need about three hours to get ready, so unused am I to dolling up. I need time to patch mistakes.
I revelled in watching world-class dancers. We have a truly first-class company here in Australia. Do read Soar, by former Director David McAllister to see the intense growth of the company. It’s a memoir written by a humble, talented man to whom the Australian Ballet owes much. After attending this most recent performance, my friends and I are now inspired to dance our little socks off at our own classes.
Finally back up the coast after staying in town for too long! I get cabin fever in the city – it’s an itch that needs scratching. Dog and I need the outdoors, empty beaches, and sand under our feet, not tarmac. We need to retreat, to find solitude, to think, to breathe.
The dog, my husband and I walked a hidden beach this week and were watched over by an accidental totem. I found cowries and watched oystercatchers and dotterels. The wind cut through and divided me into two but just being on the coast stitched me back together again.
Writing. The words have an essence that was forced for months. Now they flow…
Returning to my tiny kitchen. To my pantry of homemade preserves and stashed flavoursome cooking from summer. Thawing out flans and pies reminds me that summer’s fresh herbs and veg are only about 16 weeks away. I can cope because our veggie garden has winter goodies to eat. Carrot and ginger soup with pumpkin soybread and homemade pear chutney and cheese sounds pretty good. Or a chicken and herb mornay for dinner on a cold cold cold night.
Wrapping presents for my soon-to-be-4 grandson. Wondering down which rabbit hole the last four years went and how I jumped from being a sexuagenarian to a septuagenarian.
I don’t mind being what some might think as ‘aged’. I’m alive, despite a few distasteful health moments in the last few months. The value of ‘age’ is that one knows one’s time is running out so taking moments to experience and enjoy the minutae of nature and life becomes as easy as breathing. Mindful and then some.
Gardening. In the coast garden, seeing spring in the almost-there almond blossom, the straining buds of the apples and pears, cherry plum, greengage, nectarine, quince and apricot trees. Garlic, broadbeans, snowpeas and more – all growing despite an intense winter. I observe tulip bulbs throwing up flower buds, smell pollen on the air (bad for sinuses) and find white anemones almost in flower.
A good few days…
Watching:
DI Ray. Excellent British drama from the producers of Bodyguard and Line of Duty. Bingeing.
Virgin River – the latest series. Well. That’s lost its punch, that’s for sure.
Catching up on The Queens’ Guard – in awe of the perfection of the Coldstream Guards. Breathtaking.
The Commonwealth Games. A strong collection of nations and athletes, for all that others might see nothing but a past of British imperialism.
Reading:
Still reading Juliet Marillier’s Saga of the Light Isles. I forget what time it is at night as I read. Always a good sign.
My own manuscript.
Reading Substack:
With Love from Sweden.
I’m so glad I found this newsletter. It sparkles with Swedish light. Every link Viktoria shares, I just want to sit and either look at or listen to for hours. And then there are the recipes.
I’m inspired to want to paint our cottage all white inside (currently cream) and then bask in the glorious sunshine that will be reflected. I want to furnish the rooms with Swedish elan and throw a sheepskin over a chair. (Reality check? It’s okay the way it is – I love it for its quaint charm and it has stunning light anyway. Why change it?)
2. The Earthworm
Offbeat view of gardening from the UK. Dan Masoliver’s an absolute find. Love it!
3. Writer Everlasting:
Ramona Grigg’s honesty about life is magnetic, her derring-do with technology and thoughts on writing equally so.
The nice thing about Substack newsletters like Ramona’s, Dan’s or Viktoria’s as well as others I will list next week, are that I feel as if I’m having a coffee with the writers; they’re upbeat and make one feel comforted in a pretty grim world. One can engage without being stuffy. It’s nice in this day and age of competitive nastiness and one-upmanship.
Listening:
Spotify. My own eclectic playlists. Purists would be aghast. Just discovered two superb pieces – the waltz from Amelie:
and Prokofiev’s Cinderella Waltz :
Both from our ballet music on Tuesdays. Be still my beating heart.
Parliament. Politicians are a disgrace. Thank the stars for new faces.
Dog snoring. Yes really.
Silence. Better than anything. It allows one’s mind to simply float amongst thoughtful clouds and then drift to a better place.
Just a postscript:
A lot of people are homeless in our privileged world.
This last week, I saw a roll of bedding outside a city shop, the person who slept on it was there earlier but was momentarily absent. Wrapped in a huge wad of the bedding was a little dog. Beside the bedding was a hat with a few coins in it and a sign that read ‘We are homeless. Anything’d help.’
I hardly ever carry money since Covid. But this week I had a $20 note in my wallet, and I decided to pop that into the hat, tucked well back where I hoped no one passing would snitch it. As I placed it in there, the little dog raised his head, looked at me with the gentlest eyes and licked my hand and I could have cried.
There’s been so many times when I’ve passed homeless folk and I’ve had no cash. I just hope that this person and his tiny dog got the money and that they could enjoy some food, maybe a hot coffee.
My reason for telling you this story is to say if you see someone in need, please do something. Don’t walk by with blinkers and a superior attitude.
Everything helps…
Thank you for your company and feel free to send this on if you think its worthy. It’s free and I love the philosophy of sharing.
Take care and see you next time.