Autumn brings fog to this Pennine-side of Yorkshire. I have missed its eery presence creating a blanket over houses and trees. Only the sound of traffic, trains and the scrapyard are evidence of a world beyond my windows.
I have signed up to do a thing. My decision is made. In just a few days the process will start. It should have begun last year, but the gods conspired to keep me afloat in the Tundra. The big danger was that, with time and space to think, I started to imagine other things to do. But I have pulled myself back. Focus, concentration and applying oneself are returning after a hiatus of several years.
As I meander through my work I also make a spinach gibanica, sausage and bean casserole, a sunflower seed and oatmeal loaf. They will see me through the next few days and feed my brain.
I do most things ‘off the cuff’ in my own life, mostly because so much of my work life involves organising, being exact, correct.
It’s a relief to just write, cook, sing and be as I please. But I am still a multi-tasker. I read that way too – three books painstakingly, at a time, for pleasure.
For a couple of weeks now there has been a problem with delivering work items to my address. Suddenly gremlins have appeared. An otherwise smooth operation has become a joke, a farce, as books, documents and magazines fly around the planet in search of me!
Someone once said to me that I’d be a force to reckon with if I wasn’t so easily distracted by all the many interesting and wonderful experiences in life. Just as it looks like I could be quite a presence, something would come along, and off I would go.
Not now. My soul and inner spirit are revitalising very quickly. When I began to feel that all was lost and I would wander down endless roads my inner fire suddenly re ignited. The wind is blowing gently through and warms me.
Okay, yes, I will be distracted. That’s a given. It’s good for me! I’m off to sing this week!
Today I visited a friend of my mother’s. They grew up together, had their children together. And yes, fell out a lot over the decades. She is eighty soon. She has dementia and knows me as her friend’s little girl. My name evades her mind, but my face does not. I sometimes wonder if she sees me as that five year old child with strawberry blonde hair. I hope so.
In the world out there, as people exit their countries in droves, our government plays hide and seek. Like the child who believes he is hiding by covering his eyes with his hands, our leader seems to think we can’t see him for what he is.
We leave because we must.