Angus sleeps in. Angus rarely sleeps in but this morning the sound of Sophie singing wakes him. At first he thinks the family diva is engaged in her ' I'm bored. Let me annoy my brother by making atonal whines ' act. It's only when he glances at the bedside clock and sees we're running forty minutes behind schedule does he recognize the song for what it is. It's the ' Better get up soon. There are certain urgent things a lady must do ' routine. Angus is up, dressed and out in three minutes.
A chill morning. Close to freezing but not quite there. The wind raw on the skin. While Bob chases blackbirds Sophie has a lengthy drink from the zinc bath by the pottery kiln. Angus finds himself walking along the lane behind the PONs giving silent thanks to no one in particular for the little things – warmth, a roof over my head, the beauty of the frost touched trees, the mad cap antics of the goldfinches, the knowledge 'The Font' will be back for dinner. The bedside clock. Perhaps gratitude grows with age ? So does the importance of 'little' things.
A chill morning. Close to freezing but not quite there. The wind raw on the skin. While Bob chases blackbirds Sophie has a lengthy drink from the zinc bath by the pottery kiln. Angus finds himself walking along the lane behind the PONs giving silent thanks to no one in particular for the little things – warmth, a roof over my head, the beauty of the frost touched trees, the mad cap antics of the goldfinches, the knowledge 'The Font' will be back for dinner. The bedside clock. Perhaps gratitude grows with age ? So does the importance of 'little' things.
Where the trees give way to fields we stop and look out over the hills towards the mountains. At this time of the morning the peaks shimmer pink and orange in the weak sun. Bob has his ears scratched and is told, as he's told every morning, that this is ' his country '. Sophie roots for invisible things under the brambles. Angus ponders that this has been another week where politics have been graceless and vulgar. He smiles and whistles this tune : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NTBiRiHnRmM
The Old Farmer has disconnected the multi coloured lights that run around the bottom of his gutters. He has left the star, the white lights that run round the top of the gutters and the red and orange lights that hang in swathes off his garage door in place. Before, the night time sky throbbed with energy. Now it merely glows.
The 'Stud et Coiff ' hairdressers in the shopping centre must be a hip place. It has a cosmopolitan sign painted on its window in English '' Happy New Year and Merry Christmas ". This is an unusual sequence. The interior is quiet barring a young lady with red hair washing the hair of a septuagenarian granny who has settled in for a long 'chat'.
What could be a rather arid academic article is enlivened by pages 3 and 4 : http://www.lse.ac.uk/fmg/dp/specialPapers/PDF/SP239.pdf
And on a lighter note - Surfers heaven in Massachusetts : https://www.livescience.com/61336-slurpee-waves-on-nantucket-beach.html
8 comments:
This blog is is such a welcome relief from all the gracelessness and vulgarity. I too am now humming Finlandia.
Cheers, Gail.
Agreed Gail and Bertie
Hari Om
The title of today's post could become a mantra for social media! I had not heard Finlandia before (that I recall); a wonderful soother. YAM xx
I read a quote today that made me think of Sophie, “I am a little world made cunningly of elements, and an angelic sprite” John Donne
What a relief the Old Farmer has left the white star up, we shan't get lost if we fly into Toulouse Airport !
Bob must have overslept, too. No clandestine lick in your ear?
Bob and Angus had both been up late watching the rugby.
The "little things" carry infinite importance these days.
Thank Goodness for them.
xx
Post a Comment