Perplexed

You, bearded with unbrushed hair,

hunched and shuffling in the wrong slippers,

searching once again for clues to decipher the riddle

of your being here in this large room

with its vinyl-covered sofas its ping-pong table

and the Jeremy Kyle Show shouting

even now about the unexpected paternity

of someone's wretched child.

Your t shirt does not feel like yours.

It hangs loose on your bony back, is not your colour.

You look down, read Lonsdale from your chest.

You take it off and sit bare-chested, put it on the table

with the bag of Kent cherries I have brought you,

some of them over-ripe and squashy.

One has made a red wet hole in the paper, protrudes.

Look, it's trying to get out, I say.

What do you mean it's trying to get out?

you ask perplexed, slowly turning your eyes on me,

a blue million miles.

Dark

L has gone across the road to the community centre to find out what new-age kurling might be, and I am sitting here pretending to be warm enough in a short-sleeved shirt and sandals. Summer has gone AWOL again. At least it is not throwing rain down by the bucketful today.

I went to meet the manager of a project, where I have landed myself another job for the portfolio, this morning. Yes, another six hours' work, running the counselling service for an HIV charity. They all seem nice there, and the building is pleasant and so forth. Mind not on the job yet, but I don't have to start for a few weeks so that is ok.

I'm away down South again on Friday, taking in family and friends and then more family in the shape of my nephew in Kent, to bring him what solace I can. To have the dearest young person in my life in distress is nearabouts more than I can bear, yet bear it I do and must. He is the closest I have to a child of my own, and I have no peace while his life is in turmoil. Nowhere I can rest my mind. Except on the thought of being with him for a few hours next week.

Get Knotted

My therapist once told me I reminded her of a pretzel. Look closely at one and you will see. Knottedness.

This knot is an awkward one to undo. I cannot blog about what consumes most of my attention at the moment, but it is hard to blog about anything else. I'm starting to miss being here. I feel shut out by the need for privacy.

I loathe being cryptic, so already I feel this is not going well.

Trying to work out how to be here nonetheless.

And another thing -- tomorrow is L's and my 23rd anniversary. I'm giving her a card with a picture of a pair of turtle doves.

Giant Pretzel

I am eating a giant pretzel, sipping a glass of cold white wine. I feel a bit like a giant pretzel myself.

Weather

Rain clears the air, trickles in gutters, wets my trouser legs. The honeysuckle and lady's mantle glow in the dimmed light. Charcoal grey clouds hurry over the tops. The rain stops, the light grows, the basil leans towards the window. Now a slant of sunlight on the fields, picking out the stripes where the hay's been mown.

Packing a bag, making a plan, looking for a map to follow.

Wordless