1. Journeys:
– Out: The bus hugs the canal for much of its route but just beyond the roundabout, the road almost kisses the water. I forgot how close it gets. // the birds tugging at the grass in the deserted park.
– Return: the couple look around and smile as I make an extended farting noise down the phone to Mum // a surprise – a dozen or so chickens milling around a garden. // the impossibly middle class scene at Calverley Park – people milling around the school fair provides a backdrop for the cricket match, and along the railings, cheerful knitted jerseys ahead of next week’s Tour.
2. I thought the (pottery on the wheel) course would be hectic but I’m the only student who turns up. I have wonderful one-on-one tuition – but the tutor is good enough to give me space too. She knows that I mostly need to figure it out for myself – and I do.
2b. The thick splat as a slop of slurry flicks from the wheel into the plastic tray.
2c. I have to teach my hands to work in the completely new way. I don’t mind the failures: I know the skill and muscle memory will come in time.
2d. I thought I’d have to go back into the city to get lunch but no, there is a cafe on site, with handmade Victoria sponge.
3. Chicken chores turn into garden ones. Tilda shadows me, keen to sniff anything I hold out to her – she does not like lemon balm ;).
3b. I nip the tops off some cat mint plants to encourage bushiness and after letting Tilda sniff them (“yes, those I like!”) tuck the spare leaves into my jeans’ pocket. I forget about them until later Strange attempts to gnaw my thigh.
Leave a Reply