On May 1st I started a hundred day challenge to write a hundred posts each of exactly a hundred words. I completed it, but by then it had become a habit!
A busy but pleasant day – up early to take the dog to kennels. He was reluctant to leave us, which caught out hearts, but we knew he’d be fine when out of sight. A quick shop, then home to make scones to take to friends for an at-home cream tea. The Lyme Four enjoyed the tea-party and each had scones to take home. We talked, we laughed, we talked some more and laughed even more.
To make the day, it was quiz night at the Dolphin. My boyfriend was with me, and the Boltons, our team complete. We didn’t win.
27 years ago I was in hospital, in a ward of other women, feeling rather hungry and trying to concentrate on the book I was reading, a Brother Cadfael novel. Screens were drawn around me, and the ward in semi-darkness, just my reading light and that from the nurses’ station.
In other beds were other women, waiting as I was; nearby, I couldn’t see her, but could hear her, a Bengali woman crying. I wanted to get up to speak to her, comfort her.
She was frightened of what would happen tomorrow. I knew our beautiful babies would be born.
Exeter, on the River Exe and once the Roman town of Isca, was our destination to celebrate the birthday girl’s special day. Parked and ridden, we wandered down the main route through the city, Roman and other ancient remnants all around until we reached the Cathedral Church of St Peter in Exeter. Once painted in vivid magnificence, its time worn front glowed white against a now brilliant sky. Rendezvous made, we drifted down narrow ways to the waterside; once the warehouses were filled with wool and other goods for export, now restaurants, knickknack shops and all a visitor might require.
The plane door opened and I stepped into Tasmania. My eyes widened to see more, more colour, more detail, a wider vista, my ears tuned to a thousand ordinary but different sounds. I smelled familiar scents I’d never smelt before, was alert to the new, unseen, unvisited, yet known, as if impossibly remembered. From the aircraft steps, in the distance I recognised kunanyi, though never seen before.
Each morning I woke, slipped from the bed, took a step to the window to gaze down on the streets of Hobart and across the River Derwent to Bellerive.
I see it still.
Tonight at the pub, the other end – the public bar was noisy. Raucous laughter, raucous singing, juke box on full. I shouldn’t have been annoyed at people enjoying themselves, being ridiculous; I do the latter frequently – less often these days, ditto the latter.
We used to frequent the public, before gravitating to the crossbenches. In the public tonight, Vic and Tim and friends were having friendly converse and a couple’s dog had a barky ill-tempered confrontation with two other dogs – the pair started it, the single dog merely responded…
We supped beer on the crossbenches, chatting to Terry.
My featured image is of her birthday cake from several birthdays ago!!