Brain is tired. Brain has been working hard all week;
interlinking a trio of novels, amongst other things. Also Body is tired, and a
cough is taking residence, quite unasked. Danger of taking a wrong turning and
then - the horror! Danger of being lost in pity.
Will things turn out okay… Brain ticks over a little
too fast… Jumps through subjects without conclusion…
Walk through lanes with Dog, pelted with midges. Find
a half ripe wild strawberry, which, in a way, changes everything.
I eat it, of course. It tastes of strawberry and
water. Some alpine varieties do fruit through the autumn, so these must be of
that ilk. But a strawberry swelling up in the hedge in December, a berry I pick
and place, rain damp, in my palm and devour, seems as something that grows from
the stratum of miracles.
Struggly bit. Then comes things turning out okay.
Brain squeezes these words into consciousness. Body, wrapped in many layers, is
warm and manages a cough free sigh.
Also this past week, slightly grotesque amusing things
include:
Found a slug in a cereal bowl. Boy assures me it was
an intentional slug trap, not him forgetting to round up his washing up.
Baby's nappy leaked yellow poison on my trouser leg.
Had to tie trousers in a plastic bag to take home from Girl's house, and still
nearly barfed in the car from the stench.
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