Saturday, September 21, 2019

Scraps from my roller coaster week

It gets harder and harder to write the blog. And it's late this morning because my brother rang up for a chat in the middle of my writing it.

'Hang on,' I said, 'I'll just save what I'm doing. I'm just writing the blog.'
'About time,' he said.

I think my difficulty is to do with the turbulent times -  worldwide horrors, the constitutional crisis, the charlatan in No 10, my belief that whatever the supreme court ruling is on Johnson's prorogation it won't make a blind bit of difference - but it's also to do with an acute awareness of aging and mortality. Two good friends have recently lost their partners, and another dear friend will be facing death before too long.

And then there's September. The sunshine this week has been fabulous, but I always find September sunshine bittersweet. Is it related to the angle of the sun? I find that April sunshine makes me melancholy too, when I estimate the angle will be the same. At least in April the spring is springing: in September when the summer is dying it feels like the end of life.

Altogether it's been an emotional week. One afternoon in Sheffield I had an hour between appointments and I thought of going to sit on Mary's bench but I felt too sad, and rang a Sheffield friend to see if she was home and available and she said 'Come round!' She gave me a cuppa and a hug and a chat. 

There have been some lovely days when I wasn't sad, and there have been days when I've been acutely aware of my dodgy memory. On Thursday I couldn't remember Alan Rickman's name. Sacrilege.

I've spent time with my fabulous grandsons and their new kitten who is so small and black and quick she is impossible to get a good photo of, but I shall keep on trying.

I had a long sunny walk through the fields around the village with Dave on one day, and another walk yesterday with Liz through woods and fields near Chatsworth. Here's a roadside stream with the light playing on it.

We had lunch in a village cafe with a sunny courtyard. It was blissful. The only thing missing was a margarita. Liz and I began the morning, though, by attending our nearest climate strike, which was in Matlock, a small local town. 

Seeing these children holding their placards and imagining their future brought tears to my eyes. 

The Matlock strike was organised by young teenagers but surprisingly the majority of those attending were over 60. I expect the local secondary schools were not sympathetic.

Another day I decided to stop making quick scrawled notes of ideas for my new book and to get started on planning it properly. The sunshine had been holding me back, because I didn't want to be holed up in my study writing. I took my laptop outside... 

Dave went out on his bike after taking this photo, and I felt so sleepy I shut my laptop and had a nap on the sunlounger. It'll come, it'll come. There are six grey months of winter ahead when sitting at my desk inside making up stuff will be a treat.

While we're on the subject of the future, this is a dress I shall be wearing in my next life for one of my birthdays:

What do you think?


Anonymous said...

If you’re pre-ordering, I’d suggest giving the white boots a miss.

Thea xx

Sue Hepworth said...

Yes, I completely agree!
Should I get black ones? or shoes?
Please advise...

Anonymous said...

Might as well go the distance - barely there, red shoes?


Sue Hepworth said...

red...I like it.