Cherry Blossom

22: 05

Syd singing to me, beautiful, lyrical, uplifting chords, a face that moves with the emotion and the rhythm of the music.

Cannot remember what time I woke. Its dark. I am coughing still. Todays bargain, around my neck a chain of heavy ebony beads bought from the Sue Ryder charity shop.

Came home from the gentile flat scape of York over the high rough tops of the moor. Dipped down back through the wooded corridor into the cradle of Calderdale.

Patrick drew the short straw and spent the day at the Railway Museum with Naoise. I drew the long straw and hung out with my teenager. We sauntered through charity shops, Mind, Sue Ryder, Oxfam, Amnesty International. Syd tried out expensive guitars in a che che music shop till we annoyed the owner and left, arctic monkeys isn’t every folky’s idea of fun. We saw fudge being made, bubbling hot pours of sugar. We sampled the fudge and agreed that it was far too sweet and sickly. I stepped through the footsteps of my childhood, of walks I made when I used to visit my grannie. I tried not to go back, I tried to be present with my son. I felt a sense of de ja vu, as if he had always been with me, that we two had made this journey previously.

Sydney eating easter chocolate, egg and spoon. A vase of yellow daffodils opening.

We passed the golf balls of Menwith hill. We reminisceed about the Tour de Yorkshire/France and a protest that Patrick took part in against the war in Iraq. The protestors set off  foil spinners, balloons, ribbons; a semi serious attempt to interfere with the receivers/listening devices in the golf balls, but nobody really knows whats  in there.

I hope to see an owl, a kestrel, I spot a curlew, and two new born lambs hugging each other on a slopping green pasture.

Cough, bored of coughing.

Inside the treasurers house an exquisite model of a tall ship made by napleonic war prisoners. Hull sculpted out of animal bone, ropes twisted together from human hair. A ship captured floating in an imaginary wind casket of wood and glass carrying the ghost passengers home.

Is that enough words, this will do, need to cough, and drink and rest and stop thinking, need to stay strong, need to stay strong to care for myself and the others.

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