Wild weather today - almost as wild as my last night in Wales, when even earplugs could not conceal the persistent and violent, loud, sail-like flappings of the tent and the mostly undifferentiated roar of rain on canvas (though it isn't actually canvas any more is it, but, you know, plasticised fabric stuff), and nothing could even try to conceal the way the tent lurched and the inner and outer layers threatened to part company with an unearthly ripping sound, during certain choice squalls - and L has gone off for a two-day jaunt with friend S, you guessed it camping!! (Entering contest for longest blog sentence.) How it has happened that two of the most inveterate non-campers throughout most of their respective adult lives you could ever wish to meet, have been separately inveigled by their closest friends into 'under canvas' experiences during unreliable August weather, in exposed locations on the British coast, I do not know. But so it is, and L will spend tonight in a campsite in Filey, North Yorkshire. S has a camper van, and I guess they will be fighting not to sleep in the tent although there was talk of one night each in each. Also some talk of finding a B&B if wind and rain all got too much...
So I am home alone. The first time, unless my memory is actually even worse than I suspected, since we moved here 7 months ago. The wind has eased, and there is now rather lovely early evening sun streaming in. The fact that I am calling 5.20 'early evening' can only mean one thing. It is a thing that others have been mentioning on their blogs. The summer is preparing to strike camp, shoulder its back-pack, and head for the hills. Not that it's been a summer worthy of the name here in the Pennines, except for the month of June, which was hot and dry, allowing us to enjoy the newly rediscovered pleasures of a garden. July came, and with it the clouds. Which have only parted for maybe another 3 or 4 days or parts of days since. Well, we didn't move here for the weather, and if I ever leave it will be solely and exclusively because of the weather.
I made the mistake of adding a small top-up of caffeinated coffee beans to the grinder this afternoon, the decaff having run out, just short of the required amount. Just a timely reminder that I really cannot tolerate the stuff. Little jitters in my chest, an uneasy gurgle in my guts. I dont expect the decaffeinating chemicals are doing me a whole lot of good either, but I can't feel that!
This has all really been preamble. But to what? I am going tomorrow to see my supervisor - former and to-be - to talk about the private work with children. The last time I saw her was a day of torrential rain last November, when she gave me wonderful support and advice about the unfolding blogging-about-work-complaint drama, and then I came out of the session, got on a bus, and found the letter on my BlackBerry, summoning me to the disciplinary hearing at dismissal stage. So going back to see her tomorrow will be stirring for me. Perhaps will also mark the dawning of a new era, the end of that dastardly chapter. I like to begin new things in the autumn. It suits me. I was born in the autumn, and of course, as is the convention in these parts, began school, university etc etc in autumn. I'll see my first young client for the first time on the first day of school, so there it is well-marked.
I also want to be writing more. Want to be writing more poetry. I will tell you something, not to boast, but only to try and rally myself and get your help perhaps in the rallying. While I was away, L met S, my first writing teacher up here, (a fine poet, with three collections to her name), and her son in town. He is starting secondary school in September, and was proudly holding his newly cut front-door key. They talked for a few minutes about that, then S turned to L and asked her if I was writing. 'Some', said L, or 'not much', or something non-committal. 'Tell her to get on with it' says S, 'she should get on with it - she's got talent, and not many people have that...' S has told me before she wants to see me writing more. And so do I so do I so do I. OK autumn, let's try and use you - the wild wind, the low golden sunlight, the burnished leaves - not to descend into cliche - but to inspire and energise me into another new beginning. Let's start laying some 'track' as Julia Cameron would say, piece by piece on the page. I tend to stay too long with the edgy and quite charged feeling of ideas and stuff rattling about inside me, and find all sorts of displacement activities to stay away from the page the page the page.
Like this.
Though of course this too is writing.
But not poetry.
See you soon.
5 comments:
Yes, you will write! (And I must get back to my art too!) Summer breaks are great but fall is the time to begin anew, for me too, all these years.
Best of luck with everything especially with the call of the muse.
Aaaah camping in the British Isles. I recommend Brittany ;-) My experience of camper vans tells me that it's possible for a surprisingly large number of people to sleep in them at one time should the weather outside be sufficiently catastrophic.
Yes, please keep writing. I suspect that the boasting gene entirely passed you by and am more than delighted to say how much I love your poetry. There are actually very few people I can say that of (which probably says more about me than you, but it is meant as the highest compliment).
Yes, be optimistic and carry on with the writing.
I went on a camping holiday in the Lake District with a friend once and it rained without cease. After two days we gave up and booked into a B&B and stood looking in wonder at our room, and said, "Bed! Carpet! Table! Bathroom!"
Mmm, Brittany's really not much better at the moment.
Fine positive stuff, just its tone actually made me feel more ready to seize the day, even if it is a wet one! Hope L has a good time whatever the weather.
Thankyou all for encouragement. As you can see I went on to spend the evening writing poetry!
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