The sun has gone and I cannot seem to muster the enthusiasm to do anything of note today. Sitting at my table, here, and looking out the window, there is no blue; only grey. Amazing how it affects one’s mood. Actually, talking of looking through windows reminds me of Play School! Anyone with me? There were three windows, of different shapes, and, every day, the presenter would ask the children which one ‘we’ should look through … Little things.
Yesterday was Wednesday, wasn’t it? Well, in future, I have decided to set Wednesdays aside for continuing with my book. Not a book I am reading! One I am writing. Entitled – I Should Have Married A Vet! – it is filed under Working Draft for now. A tome whose focus is my six year divorce, it is very much crying out to be written, not only for the help and insight it may afford the many who are following – or will follow in my shoes – as I pass on the lessons I was forced to learn, and the experiences I had no choice but to endure, along the way but, moreover, because of the unbelievable twists which transpired making the whole tale more worthy of a mini-series than a book! Have no fear, it will be a humorous take on a difficult time; one demanding of strength and worthy of great pathos but, in the end – ironically – so inspiring.
So it was that I opened Working Draft, yesterday, and dusted it down. Having written the introduction and opening to the first paragraph more than two years ago now, I wasn’t entirely sure what I would find – or think. To my great relief, I wouldn’t change a thing. Onwards and upwards! I do absolutely love the process of writing and playing with words to achieve the aspired impact with both rhythm and tone. Nothing if not time-consuming, it is also extremely satisfying – and peaceful. Perfect for now. Thus, yesterday, I picked up where I had left off and wrote several hundred words. Not enough but it was a day of interruptions and you know me and my penchant for tangents. Think War & Peace! Come to think of it, I’m only sorry that said title has been taken. Would have been rather fitting …
I mustn’t lose the momentum. I have been speaking about this book – and the party – for what seems like forever so, perhaps, I should try and coincide the two. Could be a combined Launch/Release party? A night to remember! I have my guest list, ready to go, in a folder just over there and have even jotted down some music. Too long in the planning, it will happen. Meantime, I have decided to devote both Wednesdays and Saturdays to my future bestseller thus reducing my daily posts. Trish-Trash only four times a week? I know, I know. I feel your pain!
I can, also, feel the room warming following the heating kicking in at 5 o’clock. What a difference a day makes! This time yesterday, the sun was blazing and it was positively warm … I drove to the beach about 6. A perfect evening, it had attracted a few more people than I like – probably all of a dozen – and a young family appeared to play football on the sand. What’s more, they had even parked just along from my car at my pathway through the dunes! (Pop, I must have inherited this territorial nature from you!) I, actually, surprise myself. It is a beach, for goodness sake, but I time my walks very specifically to avoid people and, thus far, I have been very successful. It is idyllic to be there by oneself when all one can hear is the sound of the sea and the odd cry of a seagull as the evening sun bids its farewell. It is that which feeds the soul not the sound of screaming children and a ball. Have I become so intolerant or is it just a case of time and place? More likely a general aversion to the word public!
Talking of surprising myself, I have to laugh when I think of what I did last night! Well, walking on the beach every evening at the same time, one comes to recognise those who are doing exactly the same. One such person is a guy in chinos, an orange jumper and a cap who carries a golf club and hits two balls from one end to the other. Anyway, now familiar, we smile and wave as we pass on the sand and Becca and I had surmised a bit of a backstory for him! Always on his own, he looks late 50s/60s, and we thought he could be American. I had him living in one of the apartments in Hamilton Grand, behind the R&A, and thus he just walks out onto the beach, of an evening, to hit some balls. So far, so good. Well … I got that wrong. Seeing him some distance down the beach, yesterday evening, I thought I may have to duck as he swung his club and launched the balls in my direction but I needn’t have worried. He’s no Seve! Finally, driven back to the car by a family at play, I noticed our mystery man cycling past me enroute home. Now, if I timed it right, I would know if he did, indeed, live in Hamilton Grand! So, I waited and then drove slowly. No, he turned left up over The Scores, following the road round back onto North Street. Turning left, he, then, took a right cycling down College Lane onto Market Street … I could go on but it was so funny! Here I was driving, slowly, keeping my distance so as not to be noticed, all to satisfy my curiosity about a stranger whom we have grown accustomed to seeing on the beach every evening. Weird how time and isolation can ignite one’s imagination – and ‘that little spark of madness’. Thank God for it – and the fun one can have!
As I sign off, The Telegraph news has flashed up on my phone confirming a further three weeks minimum of lockdown. Think of the hair!! As I say, it’s amazing what one learns about oneself. Who would have known I could cut my own fringe – or not! Needs must. I could barely see out and thus, nail scissors to hand, I just looked in the mirror and targeted the longest bits, here and there. Thing is, one can’t cut one’s fringe with one’s glasses on but one can’t see properly without them. Result? A fringe through which one can see but … probably best to avoid all mirrors and refrain from venturing out!
I leave you with a quote, today, from a wonderful 99 year-old who embodies that heroic wartime spirit; that which made Britain Great!
‘For all those people who are finding it difficult at the moment, the sun will shine on you again and the clouds will go away.’
Captain Tom Moore, proudly dressed in blazer and tie and displaying his war medals.
Now, that’s what I call humbling.
This is Trish, signing off.
