Peace and quiet

We live a very quiet life at Hepworth Towers, and there have been times in the past when I have been desperate for something to happen, times when I have wanted to go away somewhere, or for someone to visit, just because I’ve been aching for a change. 

Not so this year. This year has been hectic, with changed plans and unexpected occurrences, and this summer has been particularly upside down and all over the place. 

When I got back from the sibs reunion after a long and tiring journey on Thursday there followed three busy days, all involving social interaction when I needed to be on my best behaviour.

It all came out on Monday morning. I am a naturally irritable person, but on Monday I was so impatient and bad tempered that Dave told me off, and asked me what on earth the matter was. 

“I’m tired. My brain is dead. I’m sooooo tired. I wanted to stay in bed this morning and watch videos on my iPad.”

“Well, why didn’t you? You’re retired. You can stay in bed all day if you like. Why don’t you sit and read this morning?”

I agreed I wouldn’t go out on my bike, I’d stay at home and potter. I did nothing but wash out my paint pots. They are a huge collection of clear little plastic pots with lids, the kind you get olives or hummus in. When I have mixed too much of a colour I store it in a pot. The next day I might want the same colour I used the day before and there it is, in the pot. But eventually these spoonfuls of paint dry up and the pots need cleaning. It was very satisfying. And restful.

The next day my brain was still tired but I wasn’t in chewing-up mode any more, thank goodness. There was nothing in the diary and that felt wonderful. I could go for a bike ride. I could settle in to normal life at Hepworth Towers, sweep the patio, and trim the cotoneaster that overhangs it. If it’s a fine day for my exhibition at the end of the month, people will want to sit out there and eat cake. 

There’s a lot of tidying up to be done before the exhibition, but this week it doesn’t feel like work, it feels like settling in, like a cat pawing the quilt to make a nice place to sleep.

Yesterday I had a phone chat with Liz and a FaceTime with Het and I started a new painting, and Dave and I walked down the Trail to Hassop Station for lunch and my knee didn’t hurt. It was another lovely quiet day.

I am still picking sweet peas. 

Sweet peas in a jug that belonged to my mother 

Sweet peas in a mug Lux decorated for me

It’s been such a good year for them. I have wanted to keep them going until this Saturday when we have our last Refugee Hospitality Day of the year. I always pick posies for the lunch tables. It’s a lovely job. 

I’ve got all the craft materials ready, there is a large veggie lasagne in the freezer, and I just need to make a flan and a large salad, and I’m ready. We (the committee) have a large fixed menu we’ve arrived at over the years that works very well, and each volunteer brings one or two items on it. All we need now is a dry day, and the forecast for Saturday (on this Thursday morning) is good. Hospitality Days are wonderful and exhausting. After a few days of peace and quiet I feel ready for this one.

🤞