Stories that make sense
My favourite face is down there at the very edge of the photo. And this was a difficult day: I’d slipped getting out of the shower the day before, and bashed my knee such that moving around was incredibly painful. Four days stuck upstairs, and a whole week without leaving the house, as I remember. Hence why the baby gym was upstairs on the bed.
Not sure if this is the favourite, but it’s certainly a favourite. That’s my youngest brother putting out a hand to hold the ship on which my oldest brother and family are off on honeymoon, and my mother waving. A gorgeous evening in May, a view that’s always restorative, and the honeysuckle running riot. I think there was a cat twirling around my feet, too.
Another take on the combination of silver birch tree and golden light – real this time. It wasn’t like this yesterday, I’ll tell you that much.
Beauty is fleeting. If I’d been looking five minutes earlier, or later, I’d have missed this strange little golden shadow falling across my great-great-great-aunt’s picture. (There are two stained-glass suncatchers hanging in the window, one representing a bee and the other an oblong rainbow: together they make an angel.) That said, she’s been looking beautiful in this portrait for a hundred and sixty years. Either way, I suppose it’s a case of looking, and appreciating when you see it.
I have not just been falling asleep reading books. I have been falling asleep trying to say evening prayer, whether doing it by myself on the app or watching some cathedral’s livestream on YouTube. In the Marlows books, Patrick says that his nurse told him that if you fall asleep during a prayer your guardian angel finishes it for you. If that’s the case then I’ve been keeping mine busy. I do not fall asleep, however, if I walk twenty minutes through a dark chilly blowy evening to go to Evensong. So I did that today. The journey there was rendered particularly dramatic by a power cut: half the hill was in darkness.
I’m glad I went. Gloomy readings from Daniel and Revelation matching my mood; light and music reaching through and transforming it. And the thought that this prayer goes on and on, through the centuries, whether I’m there or not.
Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee, O Lord, and by thy great mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of this night, for the love of thy only Son, our Saviour, Jesus Christ. Amen.
I do find baptisms very moving. It’s something about it being the beginning of a journey, a step into the light. And something about the sense of community, about one person being welcomed into a huge family.
In our case it’s an excuse for a regular family party. Though our regular family is pretty huge too.
It’s nice to have an excuse to ride on the gallopers/roundabout/carousel/merry-go-round/whatever you want to call it, on a bright sunny day, with the organ playing a selection from Carmen.
I mean, I’ve ridden on it on my own, without an excuse, before now, but it’s particularly nice to have an excuse.
It’s been a while since I walked my usual walk. Last month I slipped getting out of the shower and bashed my knee: I couldn’t get downstairs for three days, it took me seven to get out of the house, and for several weeks more it was painful if I moved it the wrong way. You can imagine how frustrating this was. Even now I can’t straighten my leg fully. Then I’ve had various things to buy and places to be, so I’ve been using my walking energy getting into town. But today I went out and I walked for fifty minutes, just for the pleasure of going for a walk. It was great.
We’ve had all sorts of weather today: rain, sunshine, and, above all, wind. It’s brought a lot of leaves down from the trees, and those that are left are sideways.
But it’s difficult to hem a garment that’s underneath a cat. She’s very cosy on my cosy jacket. (Charity shop find, several years ago, and it’s improved every winter since.)
I know the skirt looks like it’s hemmed. There’s quite a lot that you can’t see that still needs doing.
Kathleen Jowitt 