I’m back to being British: running to the window each morning I get up to see if there is evidence of sunshine. The bedroom window faces north and is surrounded by pine tree branches so there is a moment as I look towards the distant sky and hope.
Hope has indeed been answered and the sky is a flawless blue and the sun is shining in what I can only describe as a right and proper way!
I am still shuddering with horror at the maelstrom of humanity that filled the supermarket I went to yesterday. I needed to get some A4 paper and I knew that the shop opening on a Sunday is erratic to say the least. Unlike Britain you cannot assume that major hyper-markets will be open, indeed it is easier to assume the opposite.
Our smallish local Carrefour is open only on Sunday morning while the larger hyper-store is closed. I don’t really understand the logic, but from the hyper-market workers’ point of view it is surely better.
The place was packed and, I’m not sure if it is my highly developed sensitivity to underdeveloped humans but the number of squalling, screaming, crying and shouting children seemed inordinate. And they do get in the way with that round-eyed, unseeing inconsideration that one knows so well from school!
Another justification for the trip was to find acrylic artists’ paint and brushes for Toni so that he can complete the latest oeuvre which is a sylvan scene of back lit trees and a verdant sward cut by sharp shadows. At the moment the lack of white paint is a limiting factor in the process and I think he might have to go into Barcelona for everything that he needs – but the work has promise.
Today the ‘task choice’ is from more particular weeding and one of two types of tidying. I cannot say that I am drawn to any of them. The tidying is being done in spaces where there is no real space to tidy, if you see what I mean.
The tidying that I do usually consists of picking up something to be tidied, wandering about with it for a number of seconds and then putting it down in a different (rather than appropriate) place. I am like a young child attempting to do a jig-saw: I pick up a piece and then place it at random hoping that it will fit the new resting place – and giving it a bit of a bash if it doesn’t!
I am discovering a whole series of little pamphlet-like books that never fit convincingly onto shelves and live their lost lives hidden between larger and more convincing volumes. These have come to light as books have been unpacked and moved about. The original slim volumes of verse; a Reader’s Digest book about English craftsmen; another little oddity about health foods and so on. The only trouble is that I find these things endlessly fascinating and immediately stop what I should be doing to read them!
Occupational hazard.
Tomorrow the weather is supposed to be less than ideal so there is a chance that at least one of the outstanding tasks might get done!
Or not.
Hope has indeed been answered and the sky is a flawless blue and the sun is shining in what I can only describe as a right and proper way!
I am still shuddering with horror at the maelstrom of humanity that filled the supermarket I went to yesterday. I needed to get some A4 paper and I knew that the shop opening on a Sunday is erratic to say the least. Unlike Britain you cannot assume that major hyper-markets will be open, indeed it is easier to assume the opposite.
Our smallish local Carrefour is open only on Sunday morning while the larger hyper-store is closed. I don’t really understand the logic, but from the hyper-market workers’ point of view it is surely better.
The place was packed and, I’m not sure if it is my highly developed sensitivity to underdeveloped humans but the number of squalling, screaming, crying and shouting children seemed inordinate. And they do get in the way with that round-eyed, unseeing inconsideration that one knows so well from school!
Another justification for the trip was to find acrylic artists’ paint and brushes for Toni so that he can complete the latest oeuvre which is a sylvan scene of back lit trees and a verdant sward cut by sharp shadows. At the moment the lack of white paint is a limiting factor in the process and I think he might have to go into Barcelona for everything that he needs – but the work has promise.
Today the ‘task choice’ is from more particular weeding and one of two types of tidying. I cannot say that I am drawn to any of them. The tidying is being done in spaces where there is no real space to tidy, if you see what I mean.
The tidying that I do usually consists of picking up something to be tidied, wandering about with it for a number of seconds and then putting it down in a different (rather than appropriate) place. I am like a young child attempting to do a jig-saw: I pick up a piece and then place it at random hoping that it will fit the new resting place – and giving it a bit of a bash if it doesn’t!
I am discovering a whole series of little pamphlet-like books that never fit convincingly onto shelves and live their lost lives hidden between larger and more convincing volumes. These have come to light as books have been unpacked and moved about. The original slim volumes of verse; a Reader’s Digest book about English craftsmen; another little oddity about health foods and so on. The only trouble is that I find these things endlessly fascinating and immediately stop what I should be doing to read them!
Occupational hazard.
Tomorrow the weather is supposed to be less than ideal so there is a chance that at least one of the outstanding tasks might get done!
Or not.
No comments:
Post a Comment