Snuffling & Tapping & Twites
10.45 am ( awake in the night between 3am and 4am up at 7am)
Its grey and wet and cold and foggy.
Me and Sydney ate warm croissants for breakfast, so delicious and comforting.
I listen to the news in the background. They have found the flight recorders from the plane that crashed in the Alps yesterday. The news reader reports that one of the pilots is heard banging on the cockpit door, he has been locked out. The news takes small pieces of information and blows each apart, hanging onto each fragment. They discuss what they know, what they don’t know, what this might mean, they consult experts.
It sounds terrifying. It is terrifying and tragic. I think about how news unfolds, how distressing this must be for the relatives, for friends. Its horrifying. News has little respect for the dead. This news kept me awake in the night. I kept thinking of the panic, the sound, the banging. I kept thinking of the woman and the baby that was known to my friends. I must stop thinking of this, its haunting me, causing me to stay awake in the night. Tragic, horrifying things happen each day, death from war, death from natural disaster, death from disease, death from famine. We live in a cruel and violent world. There are accidents involving individuals and there are accidents involving groups of people . There are acts of terror. Why is it that I immediately think of acts of terror when a plane falls from the sky. We live in a time of great anxiety and uncertainty. Has this always been so. Is this borrowed time? The world is fragile, humans are fragile and vulnerable too.
Naoise always arrives downstairs half asleep and wrapped in his snuffly king sized duvet. He snoozes at the breakfast table. Oh how my youngest child loves his sleep. I am glad that the holidays are almost here so he can lie in all he likes, recover. School is so full on, it takes all the energy out of him.
Sydney is back on form today. We complete the options form, History, Resistant Materials, Music. Good choices. I am glad that he and we haven’t been swayed by the focus on academic subjects. They expect a lot of our children, to consider a career path at the age of thirteen is quite frankly ridiculous. I wish the focus was just on the love of learning, not on worrying about the future.
I run around in a whirling dervish panic getting my bags packed for the days work at the studio. I forget my sandwiches, it will have to be miso soup and oat cakes for lunch.
Sydney points out that it has been snowing, he notices this because a car passes whose roof is covered in white. You cannot see the tops of the hills for the fog, there is no sign of snow down here in the gully.
Patrick dropped Naoise off at school today.
The house is a pig sty but I would rather be hugging the radiator in the studio than clearing and sorting the family mess. Is this my responsibility? I am not a domestic slave I refuse to become one. Maybe I will get the boy and men to help me tidy tonight, that would be easier than me feeling frustrated and resentful clearing up alone. House work is such a bore. I like the results but not the process. I guess me and Patrick are messy so the kids are messy too. Must learn to be tidier, to set a good example.
Patrick dropped Naoise off at school today, I am making the most of him, getting him to help with the school run whilst he is still working locally, after Easter he will be on the commuting train to Manchester, leaving early in the morning, coming back late.
Patick dropped Naoise off at school today so that I could go for a run before coming to the studio. I ran in Hardcastle Craggs. I saw a heron, heard a woodpecker tapping on a tree. The wood is waking to the spring. The ground was wet,damp and slippery. I managed the circular route in 40 minutes, pushed along by the pace of another woman runner. She was much fitter and leaner than me.
I need to work on my pace and breathing and warm up exercises. I need to be a plodding and methodical runner. I watched the pace of the professional woman runner, I watched her stretching her legs on the packhorse bridge, I need to do that, it looks right.
Last week running on the moor I heard and saw a Twite, it has a lovely song. I laughed with my friend as I played a game with the word of Twite replacing it with the word Twat. One should not confuse a Twite with a Twat! How I love naughty words. I keep having to delete spam comments from this blog, some of these spam comments are boring and repetitive, some are indecent, some are written in Japanese. All such a waste of my time. Is this a waste of my time? Is this just a distraction, or is it helping me to make?
Note to self: Make and film performance of me washing the kitchen floor with my hair dipped into a bucket of milk after Janine Antoni, Loving Care, 1993.
Article to read: The Beautiful Trap: Janine Antoni’s Body Art