So today, I blatantly did the whole yoga series I've learnt so far. Get me! I am (as you can see) disproportionately proud of myself. I'm sure I could have done it better, in a more focused way, stretched further, held for longer etc. But I did it. I went from start to finish. Woop!'Blatantly' is courtesy of Nick Franklin, who probably doesn't even say it any more, but did, a lot, when I knew him in Brighton (from about 1997 to about 2001). He blatantly said it about 45 times a day. Well, it stuck with me, and now it makes me smile.
I hauled my trailing arse out of bed late this morning to slug it over to the pond. But I have my bike. Did I say how excited I am about that? I'm back on wheels. It's brilliant. I've trashed the pannier rack, which last night was scraping against the back wheel. I hope to fix it, and if not, it might have to come off. I don't want to spend any more money on it at the moment. For the amount I've spent in the last few months, I could blatantly have bought a new one (oops - Franklin, get out of my brains!).
It was cold (there's a thread, isn't there, running through this experience). There was frost on the heath again, but cars were wet, not frozen, so it must have been warmer than on Monday. Board said 8 degrees, though. A lady said she felt that one degree less today, or perhaps it was all in the mind.
We swam through the mist again. In places it was thick and high, rising up from the water. It's like floating though someone else's dream. It was cold. I felt it. But I got hit with an immediate smile, made bigger by spotting said lady getting in and seeing her grin too. It was SO beautiful.
The sunlight came down from behind the pond and hit the tops of the trees on the heath side, bringing out the rich coppers and burny yellows. It's December! Why are there still leaves? There were leaves all over me when I took my costume off. I always find that very funny. How do they work themselves in? It's quite tight.
I had a sock tragedy this morning. My sock leapt from the heater pipe above the sink into a bowl of water. Maybe it was getting too hot. Maybe the other one dared it. Either way, when I went to put it on, I found it floating. Shit! Luckily, I'd warn the boots, yesterday's gifty Rocket Dogs. A sockless ankle in a gappy trainer would have caused actual pain on the cycle home. With the boot, the worst I felt was a little bit uneven, but I was warm. I'm grateful for that, big-time. Even cycling just those 10 mins home, with biking gloves, my hands were freezing. It was no day for bare skin.
Posh breakfast with Ruth and Ann (whose birthday it is). Croissants and Nutella. A convoluted pain au chocolat, but Sainsbury's were out of fresh, and the pre-packed ones looked like window displays. A very willing but not very helpful person tried to help me, and succeeded, in fact. It took me a while to swallow that, but he did.
I've been grumpy, see. Well fractious. Fractious as a pomegranate. Or... what's that toffee you have on bonfire night. If it's 'bonfire toffee', I'll be very disappointed. Fractious like a bit of that.
I had the blessing of a snip with Esther Lilley, who made me cry about four times (ha, Esther Lilley, I only confessed to two!) and I was contrary, with this person I love. I was honest - she was asking my opinion and I was giving it - but there was a definite level of 'no' that didn't need to be there.
How lucky am I? Esther Lilley was patient and laughy and loving and just drove on through the mire of me, being lovely. Not conditional. I thanked her on the call, for treating me with such love and respect even when I was all crust and no filling. That's a blessing, and it makes the tasty insides of the pie come back. When you ignore the crust, or name it and carry on, both of which she does so well, treating me as if of course I'm all rhubarb and apple or steak surprise really, the crust is just a front.
I am doing the dance of Esther Lilley at the moment. Her happiness brings me such a lot of joy. The flavour of it (Daniel flavour, business flavour, laughter and success flavour). I love her when she's not happy too, of course. It works both ways. But it fills me with goodness to hear her so gleeful-playful and content. It really does.
I spent most of the day here, working, surfing, writing (and doing YOGA, did I mention I did yoga? The whole series, you know, yes, on my mat. That's what I did, me: yoga). I went up to town and bought a chicken and some pop. I had ideas.
I stayed in Muswell Hill. Ruth is so much better, but her sister left today, and it's better if I'm nearby, just in case she's tempted to go up a ladder or dig a hole or something. If I'm there, ready to do it, the temptation might pass. Or might become worse. I'm afraid I'm being terribly naggy and patronising - I am - and that's hard with someone you respect and love that much. I haven't quite got the balance. But it's all with the best intentions, and I'm sure if it gets too much, she'll say (Say, Ruth, Say!). I've promised to stop on Sunday, so I will.
And this evening, I went to pick up my lovely sister, Sarah Thomasin (aka Our Face). She's down for the weekend to make masks, tomorrow, and to play with them on Sunday
. We'll stay up here in Muswell Hill with Ruth again tomorrow, though of course I'll swim.
It's good to see Our Face. She's a terribly interesting creature - clever, funny and poemy. And now masky. It's so good to be able to share that with her. Such good fun. I must show her my new teeth. Oop - hope you don't see this first. Well, either way, they'll do their rounds. They'll have to.
So, full of anticipation again today. We'll play with clay and mod-roc. We'll make shapes and papier mache and we'll paint stuff, use glue, make mess and clean it up again. Will and I will plan the moves for Sunday. I'll be grateful (no!) and probably grumpy again too, but since I know it's here, maybe I can let it sit and be.
I'm grateful for Catherine, away on her weekend, hopefully having a time; for a sister here, a cousin (or two); for all the many many many people who call, send cards and flowers, bring chocolate, email, pop in, enquire. People who love Ruth are being flushed out of the woodwork! Everywhere you look, there's another. Ruth, you are so bigly loved!
I'm grateful for the fat biscuits Sarah made, for tapioca from a tin, for soup and an aggressive persimmon (I don't think we should have eaten the skin) which made me ache, and for the passing of it (I did some yoga, you know, and off it went, the pain).
I'm grateful that, even though the grump is real, I can see past it a little bit and mock myself. Maybe it IS all fantasy - maybe I am bruising for a fall - maybe in a few days I'll be full of regret, but whatever happens, I'll handle it. It's always true.
Love, sleep and a surreptitious asana.
Oh, DO shut up.
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