Inconsequence...

... for Knots in the String.

Anything I write seems so inconsequential after reading

A Message from Minnesota

How can food-shopping, swimming or watching outrageous Bridgerton matter when Mary’s city, Mary’s neighbours, Mary’s country is at the crossroads. I read her post to my husband, a wise and articulate man who works in international media development. He uttered an expletive and then asked for the link to pass to his peers who work within the same area. In addition, I passed Ramona Grigg

It's Americans vs. Anti-Americans Now

along too, because what the international press is feeding the rest of the world has little of the intense pathos of those two committed women writing for Substack.

Mary’s post was grassroots, dark, even sinister, showing what life must be like when a neighbourhood resistance group is formed and everything one does must be second-guessed. One can only wonder at the strain on emotions, on living. Is it possible to eat, to laugh, to ‘breathe deep and seek peace’ (Dinotopia)? So many in the world must be asking that – in Gaza, Ukraine, Iran and more…

As I write, I look up at the TV, at the foaming, glittering shallowness that is Bridgerton. I laugh, enjoying the frou-frou; I’m only 30 minutes into Episode 1 of Series 4 and already I see the Cinderella story. Not such a bad thing really except that I can foresee the ending. Who can’t?

What kind of ending can I see for Mary’s country? I shudder. But I live at the end of the world and it would appear the rest of the world is moving on, making new alliances, promoting trade to new markets. For the rest of the globe, what Mary’s country is going through is potentially to all our advantage as the old order begins to change to a more respectful state built on equality and honesty.

All I can wish for Mary is that she and many others remain safe and that eventually, things will improve and freedom will be the norm. It’s what happens between now and then that is the frightening thing.

I wish I had more to offer – wise words, clarion calls to arms and so forth, but Knots in the String has only ever been escapist, maybe even, the stars forbid, as frou-frou as the above-mentioned Netflix series.

So with that in mind, come with me, come dancing, come walking along beaches, over dusty country roads, make cakes, thread a needle, open the paintbox, read, or best of all, write – letters, a journal, an article or … a book…

Other things:

We’ve begun the 2026 ballet year after a 6 week break. New teacher – the lovely sylph-like Lisa, and for a couple of us at least, no concert! For me, it’s a weight off my shoulders. A whole year to just dance, learn and improve without rehearsal anxiety! It was wonderful to be back together after 6 weeks, and we needed to catch up. Families, pets, illnesses and so on – we’re a tight bunch. But then brains were flicked into gear with concentrated barre-work, challenging pace and some beautiful adage and centre-work.

I’ve already been back at my own barre – the cottage kitchen bench or the bathroom - for 45 minutes a couple of times weekly. I found super online classes for seniors with the Queensland Ballet whose former artistic director most would remember as Mao’s Last Dancer, Li Cunxin. The teachers are immensely positive, giving clear instruction and I practice with the computer on fullscreen at the end of the bench. I think this year is going to be an amazing year of learning, and with 2-3 classes a week, I say bring it on! May my body last the distance!

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I’ve just finished Richard Osman’s fourth book in the Thursday Murder Club series and I confess to weeping a number of times. Despite the twists and turns of the crime narrative, Mr Osman has such heart and soul – a deep understanding of love, loneliness and ageing. His revelation of Stephen’s decline and each person’s response to that decline was heartbreaking, adding such depth to his novel. I can’t imagine the sadness I’ll feel when I’ve finished Book 5. You know that grief, don’t you? When you’ve just finished a favourite book and there’s none to follow?

I listened to an interview with Osman where he explained the formulaic nature of a crime novel, saying that from the get-go he wanted his novels to be strongly character-driven, to be the characters not the crime. Oh my stars – the characters are indeed the story, I’m fully invested. Hence the tears and laughter!

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It was a relief to return to the cottage after 2.5 days in the city. To be part of the silence of the place, to feel the new carpet beneath my feet, to lay out my computer for writing and my paintbox for … well, painting. To cut new felts for an Easter project for a friend who is injured. To sit quietly and read mail and then enrol for an embroidery course on the Bayeux tapestry.

Don’t get me wrong. I loved being in my little townhouse and in the matchbox- sized garden, to see how the front garden has hit it straps and is flowering its little socks off. We spent time with our daughter who is learning to manage a cruel neurological disorder. She’s a brave woman doing her best after diagnosis, and we’re immensely proud. She gave me a new sketchbook, and loaned me a Lamy fountain pen to see if I like writing letters with it. If I do, I shall use my Christmas gift voucher.

We walked along the beach as the sun began to set, its golden light drifting in the ether. Gilded halos clung to everything - it was as though a Byzantine scribe had flung goldleaf around. Apart from being awed, we had no thoughts except how nice a cup of tea and some coffee brownie might be when we retraced our steps to the cottage.

And so I take up some embroidery. I’m stitching the St. Edward’s Crown which will have a lush border of turkey knots at the base and meant to indicate the ermine.

We sit in silence, husband, dog and I - no TV, no music - just a vague whisper of waves. Me writing, him reading, the dog in dreamland. I realise with a tsunami-like feeling, how lucky we are. That we will wake to democracy, to the possibility of new allies, to freedom. My toughest decision will be where to have my next swim and when to write Phoebe’s next chapter. My biggest problem will be making tuna cakes as well as my husband! I feel guilty for this idyll and I suppose sharing the experiences here is a way of ameliorating that by offering escape to others. If only by reading.

Music this week? Thanks to Bridgerton jogging my memory, it has to be La Valse Champagne…