Urgharg. Woke up this morning at 5.45. Lay there, unable to bear the thought of getting up and running. Eyelids had become like week old stale bread curled around an eyeball so gritty that it could barely even peek out of stale bread eyelid slits.
All wistful September romanticism died in that moment.
Last week in blazing Indian Summer and exciting escapades with Janin and Bestival, was v much digging the idea of September. Did all sorts of lovely things, such as strolling down country paths past to bramble bushes; joining a tour of slightly senior and “not exactly riveting” tourists who were about to have a guided talk in lighthouse. Thanks to quick thinking and charming smiles, persuaded the eighty year old tour guide to let us scramble up the spiral staircase and go straight to the light at the top.
If you can do the same thing (because joining the tour may have you die with boredom before you get to the second floor), lighthouse viewing is highly recommended.
The light is made from many strips of brass colored metal that creates beautiful little rainbows all over the white washed walls. There is something mesmerizing and almost painfully spiritual about watching it rotate. Even thinking back makes me feel emotional. This may be because …
1. Light house lights are connected with the Divine.
2. I am premenstrual.
I have sneaking suspicion it may be the first as I am not premenstrual.
Anyway (am leap frogging this post over the Bestival attendance part) on Sunday, Janin, Ads, myself and the babies followed the River Yar from mouth to source. We left the heat wave behind on the east side and headed west into this great purple storm cloud where it was windy, wet and chilly.
Prior to the walk Janin had fashioned these gorgeous little boats out of half walnut shells, pressed in blue tack and assembled sails which we all wrote little thoughts and wishes on.
Then, at the beginning of the storm cloud river, we climbed down to the waterside and set our little boats off. It should have been a very romantic and gorgeous affair, but unfortunately we’d come at low tide and the currents were going nowhere. Our walnut boats did all sorts of things that involved going backwards, capsizing and bobbing around in little dysfunctional circles.
In the end we threw them out to the water and watched them sink.
Strangely didn’t feel so emotional about sinking walnut ships.
Had overwhelming feeling that sometimes if you can’t go outwards, you go inwards instead. Which is quite apt for this seasonal changing thing really. Maybe the Walnuts were feeling Septemberish too?
Then the wind blew in and the rain started sheeting down.
Until this point September was still feeling lovely and atmospheric and promising. Even shivering in the cloud and wind and waiting for Ads, Pix and Roo to finish blackberry picking in the rain, everything remained perfectly tolerable.
But then yesterday struck. Monday morning. I drove into work, wind screen wipers squeaking, ambulances slicing through wet road, post Bestival goers shivering on street corners, clutching costa cups, staring vacantly into nowhere and dreaming of warm duvets. Drove past Anne Summers and saw that the knickers in the window display were decidedly black and purple for Halloween and realised that this was it.
Weeks of lolling around in the sunshine, getting up and jogging along humid jungle pathways, dancing around in festivals and not having to think about a single packed lunch box EVER was over. Now suddenly it is Halloween masks, rain and inner turmoil about whether to jog in the dark and the rain. Blah.
Anyway, it’s now 08.30 and need to take Roo to school – which also feels very strange now that Pix is at High School and exposed to a institution full of random kids who I have no idea about (disconcerting not the word). Am going to drive Roo in and then go running whilst there is still light.