talk of situations, read books, repeat quotations

Saturday, 22 May 2010

Yesterday, I took my imaginary black dog and my very real taupe dog to a meadow close to my house. The taupe dog leapt about like a March hare, pausing suddenly, stock-still, in hunting pose. Her ear pinkly folded back, paw cocked, nut-brown nose quivering before dropping her haunches and charging madly off in the opposite direction to the ball I had launched.

I lay in the grass and thought about how long it felt since I'd been warm. Fat, mauve clover and leggy eager-faced buttercups have carpeted the ground in a matter of days. The sun was so strong it almost throbbed. I could smell the lacy drifts of hawthorne, heard bees, boats on the river, distant shouting. From my prone pose, I threw the sopping ball, then tensed as I heard her thunder back to throw herself heavily on top of me, panting delightedly and proudly.

I am alone for the weekend. The sun has been blazing for hours, mocking my pitiful gloom. The roses from my birthday party are soft and wilting. I am making a flask of lattte to take to the beach with the dog, the paper and a grisly murder on my i-pod.

Later, I'm making a complicated curry for the bots coming back tomorrow night. That's when the sun will really come out.


  1. Sometimes the solitude we seem to long for ain't that great. Enjoy your grisly murder and latte.

  2. Great post. I liken [rare] solitude to going to the gym [also rare]. Very healthy. But it causes an ache.


  3. Lovely. And so fraught with the British thing about summers. Too long alone and missing bots however is universal.

  4. Funny isn't it. I always think I'm desperate for a break and then the kids go off with the dads for a couple of days and within a few hours I'm restless. The house is eerily quiet and it all just feels a bit wrong.

  5. I had LFG for an extra night. We finished another book report together. I loved waking her this morning...our extra morning together. I'm denying her absence at my flat by not yet going home. Still in the office-resisting the inevitable deafening silence that awaits me sans LFG.

  6. So sorry you aren't writing any longer.


Please leave a comment if you can be remotely bothered - anything you have to say is valuable and I absolutely love hearing from you all. Elizabeth