Day 655: I'll Just...

Oh, sweet water, 14 whole degrees, stretching out before me like a great big lake of peace. It'a ritual, this, not just a swim. It's a daily pilgrimage to the wet cold (or warm, as spring and summer make their presence known). It's a rite. I step into the water. I dip my head under. I breathe the air and feel the water hold me. I feel the earth that holds the water in this shape so I can swim in it and I see the sun shining, either directly on us or pushing itself through clouds. 

Thank you, Jane ith with a silent Sm, for being there and being lovely and getting what I meant immediately. The dive was silky and fluid. My little hiccup of fear is getting smaller. Soon it will be just the tiniest of gurgles. I can tell the dives are getting slicker because it takes longer to get back up to the surface. When I splap in with my significant thighs, I don't go very deep, but when I slip in like a hot knife into butter, and the water closes back with only bubbles, I keep on going down. My body feels long rather than sturdy. 

Procrastination is no longer my middle name. It's my first and last, the make-up of my cells. And on that note, I'm off to do some work. Or am I? 

Day 654: The Underside of Birds

Flyover day: a cormorant, geese, two mandarin ducks, another-flavoured duck I didn't know. They all came in to land above my head, or just nearby. Such grace until the water hits, and then only a tiny splutter. I did see a duck do a full on face plant in the water, though. It was chasing another duck and all of a sudden, it was properly under. Not a graceful 'I'll just get that fish' kind of dive. More a 'Fuck! I'm just going to pretend that didn't happen' one. I laughed at it. Twat! Duck! Fool!

Oakford Road, just behind Fortess in Tufnell Park. I took it to avoid the lights and was rewarded with vibrant blossoms, richly pink, on little trees. As much colour as a huge pink blossomy tree, but concentrated into a much smaller colour-holding space. Beautiful. I could have ridden up and down, staring. 

Tiu de Haan again. Thanks for you, Tiu. You're ace. I spent a lot of time in parks today. Waterlow, most of it. A modest park, but deeply beautiful. Big, brazen magnolia flowers taking up space and drinking in the light, aging without grace to speak of, petals peeling off and falling heavy on the ground. A blossom shower from a more delicate tree. Petals like great big snowflakes or confetti. I married the wind today, and we were blessed. 

Kath Jones - power vegetable

And Kath, you made me guffaw again, just by being brilliant. I stood, hacking laughs into my phone, holding above my head an imaginary squash (butternut). In Bristol, on the bus, two make-believe courgettes were grasped in fists. Kath and I will beat the white stuff over the next five weeks. We'll leave it behind and see what becomes of us. Sugarless concentration, I welcome you. Eating for nutrition, not for hits, come in! Kath, let's do this shit!

It's time, it's time. Blogging is such a joy. Why not more? Well, let's see, let's see. Thanks for such a blessed life. I am aware how lucky I am. 

Day 653: Tiu de Haan

Tiu de Haan, Tiu de Haan, Tiu de Haan, Tiu de Haan, Tiu de Haan, Tiu de Haan, Tiu de Haan, Tiu de Haan!

And the heath and the water and the birds and the grass and sitting and talking and making ideas happen and flowing and scheming and delighting in all kinds of things. And Tiu de Haan, Tiu de Haan, Tiu de Haan, Tiu de Haan, Tiu de Haan, Tiu de Haan, Tiu de Haan, Tiu de Haan!

Frea O'Brien too. Good God, that woman's good at what she does! I had my follow-up call with her from a reading/consultation from mid March and yet again, I'm blown away. The internet is not my friend this evening... or maybe it is. It's giving me the nudge to switch the fuck off and go to bed. 

Thank you, Tiu, for some insight into how yesterday's anti-baby dose of blunt might be useful to me. 

Day 652: Gulp

I'm in the process of being swept off my feet by Tom Waits. From years ago... that deep gravel voice and unstoppable dirty sound. Just delicious. I'll make it my job to stock up on those albums and see what can be learnt and savoured. 

over-ambitious on the gulping front

After another few days away, the pond has coloured itself still more. The willow is reaching its fingers further and further towards the water, and looks almost fully summered, while the other trees are dressing themselves more slowly. More than shimmers, now, though. See-through outfits, but still a lot to see. There are four red tulips sitting beneath a white-blossomed tree that borders the little field. This is where I changed today, looking out over the sparkling bird pond and sunbathing women, complete with goose pimples. 


The kingfisher dropped by. He looked extra turquoise today, and took his time. I caught a cormorant gulping down a little fish. I've seen them dive and surface many times, but this is the first live meal I've witnessed. There were insects aplenty and lots of birds and ducks. The ladies were out in force too. Even they seemed more brightly coloured. 

Uninvited, though prompted by a conversation, someone announced to me today that there was no more than a hair of hope for me that I'd ever have a child. She said I'd better  give up any thoughts of that and look into adopting right now - an older child who'd been through hell - she thought my background would give me good credentials. She may be right. I reeled a bit, though, at the bluntness of it, and the thoroughness of the active disillusioning, and it's on my mind now. There's a little melancholy kicking about since that. I'm sure it's good to have that brought up so clearly. I could focus on her brick-hurl approach, or on the message and its intention, and the emotions they bring up. Yes, that's both to be grateful for and to be felt, whether that feeling is possible to label 'good' or not. 

The sun shone hard and long today. I'm sure you noticed, if you were in London. I haven't checked any forecasts, so I have no idea what it's been like in the rest of the UK, let alone elsewhere. I finally made it to the library in Stoke Newington. A man helped me at the auto-return thingy. Tickling the back of my memory is the idea that perhaps I have been on a date with this man, a good few years ago now. He seemed familiar somehow, and I think there was someone who worked there who I met with once. I got the sense he'd recognised me. My recognition popped almost at the end of the conversation and solidified as I was walking away. I didn't go back. I left feeling a little silly and confused. 

There have been so very, very, VERY many wonderful things in my life since I last posted. It's impossible to list them. They range so very far, from wonderful jobs and friends to Danish joy, Copenhagen, Steen Haakon Hansen, the best-faced man there is, Kati Schweitzer and her Flicka girl, mask and playing, good, old friends and new ones and a young man, tall and bendy like pulled rubber, a girl with the sweetest eyes and open face; beauty and precision like I've never seen before in the whole of my life and music, music, music. We made a piece of theatre that made the audience sit on their hands and hate us for it, and I was very, very pleased and proud of us all for that. 

I am on my knees with it all, as always, in gratitude.