Crossing Bridges, Half Asleep
|Bridge over the Severn River|
Saturday, October 12, 2019
At work and snoozy and dreaming of days off but still got time to sit and write plot notes for the mysterious WIP. Other days are walking walking walking viewing land but not finding our piece yet. Dreaming about how we would live if we did choose that bit or this but not finding the right fit, but it is fun to be dreaming, a privilege. Our entertaining limbo. And also like going on blind dates trying to pick a spouse. Sunday October 13, 2019 Awake too early because there are no days off this week, but there is coffee. Mr does the driving to avoid me grabbing a nap at the wheel. I am completing requirements for eligibility to apply for my fourth degree black belt next year. We are in Cardiff, so he goes to explore the castle. I am teasy like a toddler before finding myself in good company and one step closer to getting that fourth stripe. We drive by Exmouth on the return journey and grab some grandson time - Grandchild 4 flings at an unexpected Grandad, clings and beams, a monkey of joy; Grandchild 1 puts aside the iPad to rise for hugs, gets himself flung about too: happiness spills everywhere. Chickpea Korma on the menu. The garage is being converted to a cake kitchen for Mrs MacBakes, the literally rising business of my clever and tired eldest stepdaughter, which we talk about while the boys climb into the laundry bin and attempt to sack-jump around the living room. Fat Beagle climbs onto the sofa for safety. Monday October 14, 2019 Back at work and snoozy and mooching around a field picking up pumpkins till we find one not too big not too small, pleasantly bulbous. We tried to befriend a Mama pig. £1.40 bought me a bargain of crumbly cheese. Parked by the sea to listen to the waves, to the rain. Drank coffee. I have fallen in love with a cottage and 32 acres and a two story barn that is beyond my means. Ouch. Hoping to have a good woodland viewing tomorrow (12.8 acres, broadleaf, with stream) that will divert this longing. More plot notes, drop by drop. More hopes. On the way home the beauty of the full moon led to some erratic driving. It was over the mist that hid the moors, shimmering, circled in gold.
Tuesday 15th October, 2019 We viewed the woods although the gate was chained shut and the padlock broken: slid ourselves between the gate bars, wary of barbed wire. We loved the trees, of course, and the brackish leat, and the stories of what was self seeded and what planted, and the portholes of woodpeckers and the lone sheep skull… but for the price we needed a grand longing to live there forever and that did not happen. Wednesday October 16, 2019 Last night’s cloud disperses to reveal a morning moon. Dog and I are in Exeter, come to care for Granma Grace, our usual Wednesday. We take a walk by the water, dodging swans, then Dog sleeps at Granma’s feet. Granma listens to an audio story, with her eyes closed and chair reclined. Sun streams in. Cloud loiters.