A grey morning, still, damp, a nothing. The duvet cover and curtain are in the washing machine. I am very tired, but I couldn’t sleep and I knew that if I didn’t find time to write this now there would be no other opportunity today.
Syd’s friends slept over, all in the attic. Me and Naoise slept in the middle bedroom. It was good to enjoy the splendid cleanliness and the glory of my hard work. I had spent the entire day removing dust from every surface of this room. Dust so thick that it had become like a second felt like skin. Quite disgusting. My complexion is suffering from all this cleaning, lots of blackheads.
The cleaning does not fill me with joy. I ate two and a half cookies and three french fancies…..too much sugar. Sugar of comfort. I am pleased that I did not drink too much yesterday only one bottle of cider and one beer. Patrick is meeting up with his brother today….and the morning schedule to fit in the children’s activities of School Summer Fair and guitar busking is full. Staying in bed and resting may have been a better option.
The washing machine chugs. Domestic control, order, sort, throw away, tidy. Wash, fold, put away.
The cot is down in the middle bedroom. I am so behind with life. So behind. Will I ever catch up with it. Will I ever confront where I am. I lay underneath the bed. I lay underneath the bed to take a break from the dust removal. I lay on the floor. I lay on the floorboards. I lay and I remembered being pregnant and trying to get the house sorted then. Painting walls on my own. I remember sleeping on the blow up mattress on the floor as we needed to buy a new bed. When is life not stressful? When does it ever ease up? Where there is life there is work. Work of some description. Activities that demand they get done.
The wind at the Brimstones was warm and gentle and comforting. Its hardly ever this way, normally bracing and sharp and cold. Me and mum talked about the windmills, the new ones popping up, how almost every moor is covered. How the windmills change the landscape. We watched the swift rise and fall on the wind. Mum told me that the only time that they come to rest is when they are raising chicks. So they spend all their lives on the wind. Swifts constantly moving. Constantly.
Pizza and chocolate cake was a good meal to offer the teenagers. I haven’t seen Syd at all. He is out or in his bedroom, thats ok, teenagers don’t want to hang out with their parents. Teenagers want to push you away. Push and push.
Naoise did not want to go out of the house for an evening walk. Eventually we made it as far as feeding bread to the geese and swinging on the rope on the hill beside the canal. Naoise ran after the family with seven goslings and he said that he managed to touch one of the goslings back feathers before it plopped into the canal.
After we got home, I had a look at Naoise dragon game, I hate it that he has become obsessed with playing with the iPad. Its a nurturing and fighting game. Hatch and feed your baby dragon then battle other dragons to gain jewels and money. I like the nurturing aspect of this game but the fighting seems very shallow. After the dragon game we watched a wildlife documentary, and then we both crashed to sleep to the bumps and thumps of the teenagers moving around in the attic room above us.
There is little more to say….the washing machine is quieter now, there is little traffic on the road, a woman jogger passes…a car. A chug of the washing machine. I need that cup of tea. A bus.