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thoughts on home

It’s 7.30 a.m. Last night, keeping busy (including scanning the weekend papers and watching “Call the Midwife” at 8) I managed to stay up till 9.30 – 3.30 a.m. my time – then took a sleeping pill, woke at 5 and 6 but managed to get back to sleep till 7. Perfect. Despite the glorious sun yesterday, I can see now it’s barely spring here – a hesitant bit of yellow on my forsythia, the barest sprinkling of green on the willow, otherwise still brown. The big worry is the massive ivy that covers an entire wall of the garden, that seems to be dead. There are no leaves, just a vast intricate tangle of stem. That has never happened before.

I opened the front door this morning and there was the Star, just where it should be, but then I wondered if I should have left it outside. Terrible news of aftershocks from Nepal, child porn in Canada, attacks in the Middle East. It’s a blessing it’s such a lightweight paper – not that much international news to digest first thing.

Here is the joy: routine. Ritual. Familiarity. For the first time in five weeks, my own coffee in my own mug – and every mug in that cupboard has a story, this one I bought at Marks and Spenser ten years ago and gave to my mother because it has a rooster on it, my father’s symbol.

And space. For five weeks, I’ve lived in tiny hotel rooms or in bedrooms at my friends’ houses, or, at Christopher’s, on the living room floor. Here are rooms, one after the other, big room with high ceilings to walk through, each arranged the way I like it, because they’re my rooms. Everything has its place. Including me.

Distraction. I realize just how much is in the way here of concentrated work – newspapers, limitless internet (which I now realize is a privilege, a tool to use properly and wisely, not a right), the phone, TV and radio, neighbours family, friends, and countless household chores, not to mention teaching and editing work. No wonder I don’t get enough writing done. Got to figure out a new way.

But first – a visit from Booboo.

9.30. Eating a slightly stale croissant from my favourite bakery in Paris – with peanut butter. Talk about the best of both worlds. And … I can do laundry ANY TIME I WANT!
10. I can pee ANY TIME I WANT! And eat and sit down and go out and come in and … rake leaves. Any time.



2 Responses to “thoughts on home”

  1. Oho says:

    Welcome home, amiga!
    It was funny sharing your adventures via your blog.
    Happy spring! Happy reunion avec all your loved ones!

  2. beth says:

    Ciao, bella. It's a good thing the blog is there or the trip would be a blur! Glad you came along.

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About Beth

I began keeping a journal at the age of nine. Nearly fifty years later, I started this online journal, sharing reflections, reviews, updates, and the occasional secret.

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