Crisp white sheets
Bright white light shinning through a window.
Seagull calling early morning.
I must be on holiday.
Goodness, it is so very hot. We aren’t used to this kind of weather in the UK.
The weather when you need to leave your windows open, so every mosquito and moth and bug can come in and have a party in your living room. Feasting on your blood, and leaving those itchy red welts for days to come. Or flying into the lights, and casting those ghostly shadows on the walls, as they dance the dance of light, before falling down to the ground in exhaustion.
Strappy tops and burnt shoulders are not a good look, or sandals with socks. But we insist on going out in this summer uniform until it cools down.
Last night my bedroom was 29 degrees, hot enough to cook an egg, if I had the energy to try! I slept out of the covers, or should I say I tried to sleep out of the covers. it was too hot. Then it was too cold, then it was too hot, it went on and on!
Well today is another day, a day of cool and calm. Actually I had so little sleep I think I’m hallucinating – it’s still hot – in fact its even hotter. Its not calm as I rush from room to room looking for some shade.
I’m going out soon, my car has air conditioning, its going to be a long car ride!
Those around me are drowning in sorrow at the minute. It’s such a very sad time.
And it has made me remember my mam, and how very much I loved her, and still do. And every day I miss her so very much.
I’m listening to stories of long drawn out illnesses, and brave battles fought again and again. And long lives lived and memories made with young families. And with the greatest of sadness, a life not much older than mine being snatched away, while those around are helpless, and wordless – but not without a river of tears.
I had no time really to say good bye, just good night. The next morning she had gone, before I had time to tell her our plans of grandchildren and weddings. I know she didn’t want to go, it wasn’t how she planned it, I’m sure of that. Her favourite shopping was for hats. But life is both blessed and cruel. On one hand a fine engagement ring, on the other funeral plans. I’d just come back from Paris, where my kind loving boy had given me his undying love and knelt under the tower to ask me to be with him till death do us part.
I’d found one love and lost another – in the blink of an eye.
That’s why we need to say ‘I love you’ every day, with genuine feeling in our eyes. We need to build memories, not hide secrets. And treasure the family we have, for as long as we have them.
I was driving home today from a shopping trip. Coming up to a large local roundabout, when suddenly a police motorcycle pulled up in front of us, and held his arm up. STOP he indicated. So we did. I could see another police motorcyclist doing the same at the next junction of the roundabout. The roundabout came to a grinding halt. Nothing moved, it was as if time was standing still.
Suddenly speeding around the roundabout was a magnificent aubergine colour Rolls Royce car, with big glass windows, and a flag flying in the wind on the bonnet. There was someone sitting in the back holding on to the little handle just over the window, as it sped around the corner. Off into the distance it drove, flanked by more motorcycles. The cars in front of it being parted like the red sea in a biblical story.
It was a royal car carrying monarchy to the Epsom Derby.
It made me think. ‘The Royals’ never have to wait for anything, do they? They never have to worry about ordering something and having to wonder what the delivery slot will be, who will wait in for it, and if the DPD guy will throw it over the railing at Buck house, because someone was in the garden, and didn’t hear the doorbell? They will never have to stand in a queue waiting to be served, or by the look of it, sit at a traffic light waiting for the traffic to move off.
Their priorities are different aren’t they? While we as mere mortals worry about our job perhaps and how will we put our skills to best use, they probably have to think, how their ‘power’ and social standing will be put to use to make the world a better place.
Now that is some pressure isn’t it?
I think that despite having to worry if there is enough money to pay the bills, I would rather have to do that – than have that type of pressure on me; be in the public eye, have less than a private life.
If my hair is out of place, I only have myself to blame. My face isn’t plastered over the tabloids when I do something inappropriate. No – I am lucky I can live a life without fame and fortune. I’m glad there are others who make the world a better place in a different way to me, and I’m more than happy to move out of the way for them.
It’s the glimpse into our past that makes our history all the more appealing.
The London Underground has given me high expectations. As soon as I set foot on the platform, I expect the train to arrive instantaneously. Once left the station, the train whisks me to my next destination, where I catch another to take me home. Everything is rushed. I can’t afford to miss that connection and besides, if I don’t keep up, I’ll be swept away with the crowds. This high level of expectation has in turn heightened my impatience. Waiting for a train, be it only a few minutes, feels eternal and my eye wanders around the tube platform. The infrastructure, cameras, mice and recently, vertical archaeology. Over the past couple of years, with major and minor refurbs to tube stations, layers of the walls, have been pealed back revealing their predecessors: previous rendering, tiles, posters even. This has entertained me no end.
I had never considered that what we…
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I don’t often plan my life, it rolls along quite randomly. I might suddenly decide to go shopping, or I might suddenly decide to go out for a sneaky drink with my poor long suffering husband.
Not today. On the way to work I said – ‘I’d love to go for a drink tonight, a cool cider would go down a treat. It’s a hot day, and the local watering hole Woodies Freehouse would be just the kind of place to stop’
OK he said. So a plan was hatched.
The problem is – I’m now the emergency baby sitting a sleeping granddaughter, and not holding a cool pint of cider. Things sometimes don’t turn out as you plan do they?
Perhaps next time I’ll stick to the randomness of my life.