Day 244: The Force That Through The Green Fuse...

Oh, how silly. I didn't post the Lilleylink in yesterday's blog. I have now, but that's not the point. Here it is again. 


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=URTT2A8I5_I&feature=share


I had the pleasure of speaking to this outstanding creature twice today. Well, more than that, but mainly because of phones cutting out. Two actual proper times. That's good, isn't it? I'm so grateful to have her in my life. Isn't it lovely to have a friend that says 'I love you' and to whom I can say it just so. Lilley's very specific with her praise, and she's very good at being truthful even when she knows it isn't what I want to here. Celine is especially good at that too, both with such grace and emotion. 


It took me far too long to leave the house today, but when I did, I got such gifts. It had just rained, the sun was shining and white clouds were blustering across the foreground over the backdrop of a dark, water-filled sky further East. Ha.. I say East as if I have any idea what I'm talking about. Over there, it was. Beautiful. It's one of my favourite things. 


I also got to swim in a pond full of screeching 12-year-olds. They did me good. When I got there, part of me was affronted by them. There is no apter word. Their shrillness poked me in the ears. The whole atmosphere, usually so blissfully calm, was pointy and sharp. I swam to the far end of the pool. After a while of floating, gazing up at a moving sky, with my ears mostly in silence, I lifted up and watched. 


They were LOVING the pond in such a loud and active way. They were lining up together to leap in, squealing orders at whoever's turn it was to take the photo. Their energy was relentless. They were having such a great time, in such a different way to most of the regular ladies (among whom I include myself). Normally, it's a quiet meditation for me. Today, it was a loud and pointy meditation. Just as good. And some 12-year-old chose this as their birthday party. "No thanks, Mum. Not McDonalds. The pond." I honour you, young thing. 


The whole heath was full of young things today. Offspring. Whelps. Smeems. Tiny yellow ducklings and gawky, teeny moorhen chicks, all tufts and clumsing. I saw the eatablest of puppies too, and an old-man-faced baby at a checkout. He was fascinated - transfixed, even - but very tired. He had dramatic arms. Too cute. Lilley put me onto this and opened my eyes to it. 

I stayed off facebook for most of the day. Thanks, Viv Goodings, for prodding me when you thought you'd seen me on there. You hadn't, but I saw your post much sooner than I should have, and that helped me log off again. I do like Fine Mr Goodings. Just the thought of him makes me smile. Standing on Oxford Street like the arty bit in a romcom or a music video, where everything streams past him but he is in slow motion. That's how Viv's consciousness is in my mind. Oh, i love stories too. 


Thank you for an unexpected gig offer for next Saturday. I am delighted and see that I shall be in excellent company. I'm honoured and very pleased. And in another town. I'm not sure where. I did read the words but no longer remember what they were. It's in the diary, though. Thank you, thank you, thank you.


And thank you for the very engaging, highly pleasing chat I had today. I felt buoyed. Still do. I smiled on the way home, and not just at dogs. And thank you thank you thank you for a job that tastes like it's going to be just amazing. I say 'taste' not to be poetic, but because I actually start salivating when I think about it. 


And all this to a soundtrack of Die Antwoord, mostly. And a little bit of Nick Helm. Softness and steel, today. Seriously. 


Thanks for all the help with decisions today, whatever you are. Thanks.