Hi everyone –
I wish you well on this extraordinary Bank Holiday Monday. Without wanting to dwell on the events of the past few days (I’ve been trying to escape them this morning by getting out into the garden) I find I’m still, like so many in the country, angry to the point of despair and tears. My weekend stolen and spoiled.
Just as the wind has laid waste our gardens so Dominic Cummings and Boris Johnson have laid waste the honour and sacrifice of ordinary people. They have treated us with contempt. By their actions they have denied every desperate, personal tragedy and rendered the resulting heartbreak and grief, meaningless.
But nothing could be more meaningful, and this weekend we have shared again the stories in their thousands of those desperate to be with sick and suffering loved ones, those who were unable even to attend a funeral; those who stayed at home. Their wounds will never heal.
How dare they?
Now, for something entirely different – on the writing front, I’m excited to have found a title for my novella and even more excited to have commissioned the cover. (More on that later) Last week I made a research trip in the beautiful sunshine to Forgotten Quarry – here is part of my notebook entry – these observations will definitely make their way into the novella
Still heat, birdsong, running water, sky insistent, blue, the odd rag of cloud, primrose, dog violet, old tin blast hut, rusted, and rising above sheer rock, gorse in flower, a single sheep on the cliff edge, what would a fall mean from that height? After the wide grassy track a narrowing, shadow of yew, dog’s mercury underfoot, a wooden bridge, left handrail rickety, cool out of sun, overhang of trees, damp earth fern, filtered sunlight, cleft in rocks, seam of iron like blood, , hollow, hide, unseen among the grass, a small tent, people walk by, walk their dogs but not in numbers, flat river bed stone pavement – a place for washing, not totally wild, wild enough to escape in, to light a fire at dusk, ashes in an old tin drum
If like me you’re feeling angry and helpless, a walk or a sit in the garden or on the step outside, with your notebook in hand might just be the thing to bring calm and comfort. Alternatively you could do as I have and email your MP to let her/him know just how you feel..
