I've had a week away from Blogging. It's difficult to pinpoint the reasons why I didn't write something every day. I went to Cornwall last weekend, was Internet-free and lost the habit. Now, I feel silly because it has been quite an eventful week, and there would have been lots to write about. I feel a bit of a fraud playing catch-up now, but some things have got to be worth a mention.
The weekend in Cornwall was much more pleasant than I had anticipated. Nan's house was as clean as I've seen it in some time, and she had been eating quite well, so I was reassured. I stood in the garden and breathed in the smell of spring, probably the smell of wet leaves warming up and rotting, but mixed in with it, the scent of celandine and gorse blossom. Darcy and I went to Portreath and bounded up and down the sand. He showed off his ability to predict how far each wave would wash in so that barely his toenails got wet. The surf was white and roaring. Sunset came on so that the sky was turquoise, yellow, pink and purple. It felt good to be alive in that place. March until early May is the best time to be in Cornwall, it becomes a sensory paradise for this little time, before it gets busy and the locals put their frowns on.
The weekend in Cornwall was much more pleasant than I had anticipated. Nan's house was as clean as I've seen it in some time, and she had been eating quite well, so I was reassured. I stood in the garden and breathed in the smell of spring, probably the smell of wet leaves warming up and rotting, but mixed in with it, the scent of celandine and gorse blossom. Darcy and I went to Portreath and bounded up and down the sand. He showed off his ability to predict how far each wave would wash in so that barely his toenails got wet. The surf was white and roaring. Sunset came on so that the sky was turquoise, yellow, pink and purple. It felt good to be alive in that place. March until early May is the best time to be in Cornwall, it becomes a sensory paradise for this little time, before it gets busy and the locals put their frowns on.
I took Mum and I out to the posh garden centre restaurant for joint birthday meal. We both seemed to have a good time, and didn't seem to offend each other. Far too much food was eaten, including strawberry cheesecake that was out of this world, and £5 each but I didn't begrudge it.
I was in Cornwall not for the cheesecake or the sunset, but to get Nan to her eye checkup at Helston. Even this went smoothly. The other times, Nan has got anxious during the time leading up to it, and panicky in the car. This time, she was calm and pleasant. The mood seemed to have been brought on by a dream where she had been walking upright, free from pain.
Back in Coventry, the morning after StPatrick's night faced us with a broken windscreen, and later spotted broken number plate. these things have taken days to get fixed and were an unexpected expense. Nick and I laughed at our initially xenophobic response. I expect that we were right that it was caused by a customer from the Irish club around the corner, drunk on StPatrick's night. It could be coincidence though.
I went to see Richard Herring's show, The Headmaster's Son at the Spa Centre Leamington. This was a second go as it had affected me badly first time round, and I wanted to know if my extreme reaction was caused by the show, or if it was just me being silly. I went on my own and got there early. I rapidly lost confidence about being on my own. I'm afraid people did look at me funny, though I did brazen it out quite well. Tickets were unallocated so I seated myself quite early, on the third row, expecting the seats to fill in around me. Unfortunately, they didn't and two seats were left to either side so I felt I had a conspicuous island like quality. Oddly, I thought, the first row only half filled. Perhaps people were afraid of being picked on. If I had taken Nina, we would have sat at the front, she sees that as her rightful place, and not just because she is short.
I found myself immersed in the show and laughed a lot more than last time. The audience seemed more responsive with some quite big groups of people, mostly young men laughing together. Richard's first half was storming. He got the pace and delivery so very right. There were subtle facial expressions and body movements that synced with the content. The second half is a more reflective read, and I was anxious in case I got upset again. Richard came on with eyes quite bloodshot as though all of his energy had evaporated. The delivery was gentle and I felt more of the sweet nostalgia that I think was intended, as opposed the the piercing self doubt that I had experienced last time. I dropped £5 into the charity bucket.
So, Saturday 21st arrived. I spent the day in bed avoiding the Children and their friends. I could hear them all out on the Green having a laugh and playing Frisbee. Teenage voices now, so I didn't have to supervise, which was just as well. Nick came up for a while, then left, so I felt a bit used and abandoned, although there was no need to feel this. I fell asleep, waking at 8pm, then watched some online TV comedy. Strangely for all that, I went to sleep quite early, and slept sound. Next morning, the whole thing could be put down to PMT.
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