Yesterday, I buried my SELF in my home, not house.
Yesterday, I started writing this post, then deviated to two previous postings where there hadn't been any, such is the power of personal editorial! Readers will access this on 8th January!
A day or so ago I finished listening to the three hour radio programme about E.J. Howard who died this time last year.
I lived in her street. I wrote about that here. She said that she kept the discipline of writing for three hours a day after she could no longer write for longer periods. She had a sharp mind. I wish I had known her. I like her style of writing. She said it was demanding to write as work. Writing is a form of self-indulgence. I sometimes spend more than three hours a day writing here or elsewhere. Sometimes no writing at all.
(This script is a bit tongue-in-cheek as I notice that my current natural circadian rhythm seems to be sleep for 12 hours. I am also experimenting, I suppose, with writing style that might pour forth!)
Today, Wednesday 7th January, I have been an absolute sloth...lazily dreaming, mooning, regretting, wondering, writing. As human sloths do, you know! What do sloths do whilst they hang about? Interestingly, they descend extremely slowly to evacuate cleanly, then return to their tidy roost!
Or, maybe I have been an absolute hedgehog...hopefully not covered in moss or algae like a sloth, or too prickly. Maybe irritating unto myself, as curled up inside my spirit, I emerge slowly to forage for food, warmth, company and an indulgence in writing, avoiding jobs that must be done. It is procrastination of which I am not proud!
Must think of more reasons to hibernate if I wish to.
It is creativity and freedom to practise written self-expression,
(added postscript) moreover it is important because of the terrible incident of today in France.
Winter.
Hibernation.
January.
Dark days, despite that days are supposed to be lighter, little by little, before and at the end of nightfall. My house is shuttered up, quite deliberately against weather and world. Have I become a recluse, a cave dweller, a hermit? Temporarily, for I long for daffodils. I love tulips that dance in vases.
I am able to be like a hedgehog in hibernation because there isn't anyone else here to tell me what to do, or, invite me to do what they want me to do, or, encourage me to do what I want to do or even what I MUST get done, or to treat me with kindness or to parent me or to care and ask me if I would like this or that.
Though I know there are many of those that I know who DO care. I love them for it, each and every one who shows they care for me in the most infinitesimal of ways. It makes / They make me feel so grateful to be alive. This, this person who lived in the public eye for so many years in her English town, with such a high public reputation to maintain and adhere to. Where did that come from. How did she aspire to such a pedestal? She could have no private life but tried! Always under scrutiny!
Of course, when the mind starts to make the body active again, which it will do, it will berate me, as perhaps will others, who might say such things as:
"Get on with it"
"Snap out of it"
"Grow up"
"Take responsibility"
"Get a grip"
"Only you can do it"
and such phrases, to cite a few!!!!!
Today has been like one of those rare Sunday mornings of yesteryear, when in the midst of that life career path....
"A what?"
"That time when I had to work to provide a shelter and much more for my children and to pay for the pension and AVC pot, which I might just be able to access this year"
"oohhhh.... that would be nice!"
"Yes... whoopppeee... if they let me!!"
"Careful now... excitement is not good for hedgehogs or sloths..."
To continue what I was attempting to write about:
.. yes, a life career path, in the days when one didn't have computers with world news. When one got oneself out of bed or the other one did. He was more keen to saunter down to the newsagents' shop and buy Sunday newspapers, which would then be spread about the bed and floor whilst one drank tea or coffee.. or coffee and tea, ate marmalade and toast, later chocolates combined with red wine in the way of late afternoon lunch or early afternoon dinner and then there was a cooked supper when one arose! One had stayed in bed for most of the day... I only ever did it maybe two or three times a year! Boy! Girl! ... was THAT a LUXURY in heaven! I remember HIM!
It is almost two in the afternoon as I write but not as I post, for time passes, and I have to confess that apart from bodily concerns, I did not wish to get out of bed today. When I did, I didn't wish to eat, but did eat to get warm. Muesli, with pineapple juice and coconut milk, which I have discovered can be bought at a local supermarket. Very impressed. They are selling Almond milk too.
Since arising, hugging my hot water bottle and wearing a fleece jacket and proper day clothes, I have had a small cafétière of coffee and three escargot chocolates, because I can! ... and now ... after much interruption from the woman inside me, it is four o'clock!
To answer 'Tim' about temperatures, a few posting days ago.
I have already done that.. sometimes slept on the sofa in front of the fire, having grabbed a duvet from the next door bedroom... all on one level here... or taken a morning or afternoon nap on said same sofa whilst 'Listening again' to Radio 4 in particular... or Classical music... anything to soothe the soul. Have been ploughing through audio 'War and Peace' from Radio 4 New Year's Day. There is also a 'ready to sleep in single bed' in Le Grand Salon where I have often spent a night. It is quite comfortable but not as comfy as mine own bed. It's nice to sleep in either of those places because one can watch the flaming or dying woodburner (depends on if I add another log, as rarely do I bank it sufficiently to have any embers by the morning. I have discovered that it doesn't stay in ... never has... unlike the woodburner at my previous lodgings). One can watch the fire flickering and then the light dancing around a darkened room playing shadows on ceilings and walls and in the mind.. fluttering memories of camp fire or domestic open coal fire ... nostalgic reminiscences from way back to the late 1970s but oh...oh... oh... a distant reminder of Times when one never thought about ageing because Love was most certainly in the air!
WHAT AM I DOING HERE?
WHY AM I HERE?
WHAT IS NEXT?
IS IT A LEVEL OF MADNESS FROM LIVING ALONE?
There is no need to answer these questions!
It will all become clear and later this evening I have PLAN B... it has arrived but I don't know how to engineer it...
and a different plan has been suggested by a friend .. and several friends before...
"Have another cup of tea dear! It is 5 o'clock."
CAT has a disparaging look!
