Ah, 2014. And I greet
it as tired, bleary eyed and secretly hopeful as any other year. I say secretly because I only just realised I
felt a bit hopeful; and it flies in the face of a few actual developments in
life. On the other hand, things being
about 60% what you choose to think about them/ focus on/ make of them…it could
all be way worse, and therefore I shall right this instant say that so far, all
goeth, y’know, ok-ish…(and that’s as much deviation to positive thought from
actual reality I will give you!).
The Prince has moved out into his sparkly new flat near his
work. My book room is denuded of other
people’s bags of alien possessions. He
also did me the grand favour of borrowing a large beanbag Stanley bought me for
Christmas the year before, but which turned out to have nowhere to live in the
entire house, so ended up sitting there in a massive box on the side of my book
room, irritating me beyond patience with the amount of space its taking
up. Now, if I get my arse to hoovering,
I can do yoga on the floor again. Just as Stanley and I thought we could start wandering about naked again, groping on the sofa in small snatched moments or generally picking our noses wherever, it seems the house may not be empty of guest for long. Not 24 hours after The Prince had left the building, we had a distress call from Another. We'll see what happens.
Not so small Fluffhead is happy to be back at nursery – he
didn’t really get the concept of Christmas holiday; I think he simply thought
we were meanly withholding his friends from him for no apparent reason, and
only presents distracted him from this.
But now he comes home daily covered with Pritt stick and glitter paint
again, and is very happy. (I wonder how
long it will take him to get his next dripping 10 week cold…?!) He also accrued 3 new words in 3 days flat: more, four and door. Which is definitely a good start to the year for him. He'll be four at the end of the month, too.
In a return to routine, to a degree, Time Traveller and I
yesterday haunted Coffeehouse. I waffled
on something chronic about my problems and asked her opinion, and she listened
with all the intensity and kind wisdom I generally associate with her, before
pronouncing: ‘that’s a tough one, conflicted.’
We sat thoughtfully for a moment in silence, before I waffled on
again. She always thinks she’s the
waffler, hogging the conversation; but its not so. I don’t think either of us does. We both don’t seem to mind listening, and
we’re both nosy, as writerly types are. It
occurs to me I could do such a good character study and story from things going
on right now around me – which I don’t mean to be vague about, here…but that’s
the point: I’m not one of those writers
(yet, anyway) who will steal wholesale their friends and family and stuff them
in a story and stick it right out there, whilst said people are still
going through all their most interesting trauma that I have nosed out of them
while I counsel them. This may make me a
failed writer; possibly it makes me an ok human being?! It’s annoying though, I have at least 2
magnificently rounded characters (that is to say: real people I have
unintentionally studied in depth; and I don’t want to disguise or fictionalise them so I can use them now, I sort
of want to leave them as they are, they are just wondrous fascinating already,
as people and characters). Time
Traveller is doing way better than me with her writing, at which I am most
pleased and dead envious – but mostly pleased (which is uncharacteristically charitable
of me, I note), as she is such a good writer I wouldn’t want anything to
interfere with her flow.
I look out the window at the garden, battered and
waterlogged from days on and off of rain and wind, and I wonder if the storm of
2013 is slowing and calming, or if this is just a lull. Like I said, I am starting to get a slight
feeling of spaciousness, extremely cautious optimism. I’m starting to engage with the feel of the
season. I saw a small fox in the garden
this morning; another yesterday morning, running fast away from me, all dark
orange and paddy feet and scared eyes. I
really like foxes (despite the gross poo they keep kindly leaving me in the
garden – I’m always having to run about and do Poo Search before Fluffhead can
barrel out and charge over the grass, as there’s always some and I don’t want
him stepping in it and slipping and bringing it back in the house).
I still have a cough from a cold I got at the end of
November. Which is most irritating. It comes and goes. Days it’s gone, almost a week sometimes, and
I imagine that’s that and I’m better, then it tickles and there’s chestiness
again and IRRITATION, its back. In this
spirit, I give you this cough syrup remedy.
It definitely does quell the tickling (for a short time), and annoyingly
tastes so nice you may want to keep drinking it for pleasure, which means there
won’t be much left …if you don’t, and just take a couple of teaspoons here and
there, it’ll last a week in the fridge.
I didn’t invent this one, Kate West did, see footnote for reference:
HOME MADE COUGH
SYRUP:
- Take the juice of 1 orange and 2 lemons,
- 2 tablespoons of glycerine (from your chemist),
- 2 tablespoons of honey (locally made is best),
- ½ a crushed cinnamon stick,
- 6 cloves,
- a large pinch of grated nutmeg,
- and ½ a teaspoon of grated ginger.
- Heat gently for 10-20 minutes, stirring all the time. Do not allow to boil.
- Strain and place in a clean jar to cool.
- Children as young as 5 can have this – but their dose should be diluted with 3 times as much water[1].
I also made up some seasonal room and body mist, and some
bath salts. I like to feel like I smell
like the parts of the natural world I like (for instance, no plans to smell like seasonal fox poo anytime soon) – since I spend so much time indoors
in front of screens or just generally pacing up and down while Fluffhead does
stuff; this makes me feel more connected to the larger blowier colder wetter
(currently) outside world. In a partial
and romanticised way of course (but that’s all focus is: editing, picking what
you choose to look at and using it to make you feel good/ better/ however. That thought apropos of nothing.)
I was wondering if I should do a sort of look ahead thing,
about what sort of posts I plan to do this year. Then I realized that whilst I have a tiny
tiny cautious feeling of possibility, I’m still pretty directionless, and
feeling my way. All I can actually
promise, is a continuation of whatever series I’m already doing. So there’ll be more reviews of Dr Who books (which will incite bored
weeping and happy cheers from various people I know, respectively). Probably more herbs posts. Probably reviews of other books and TV or
film I’m watching, specially if I get addicted to something. There’ll likely be some posts about art or
writers, I’m planning to get out more and go to some exhibitions and bring you
back my one sided impressions. There’ll
be some guest posts, and maybe another Season of Love, we’ll see. I realize I haven’t done a Things That
Irritate Me post for almost a year.
Which is amusing, as plenty of things have annoyed the hell out of me –
but whilst stress makes me shouty and a bit argumentative, I haven’t actually
felt like laying out my precise thought case for any of these things. Maybe I will this year; maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll start a Things That Give Me Joy
series too – there’s definitely plenty of those, also. Other than that…its whatever takes my fancy
and engages my brain…and failing that, posts like this, Of Much Wiffling And
Signifying Very Little Other Than Thinking Aloud In A Disorganised Way.
Happy New Year. Be well, and May The Force Be With You.
[1] The Real Witches Year, by Kate West (Minnesota: Llewellyn,
2008), p.4. This is the second imprint
of her book; despite the American publisher, the first imprint was an English
publisher over here, and all her recipes etc are given in English measurements
as she’s English.
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