During Sidney’s football training I went for a walk in Newstead. Decided to go there. Claire and I could have, about ten years ago, bought this house.
The place hasn’t changed at all. Same derelict house, same disused hay shed. I forgot about the side studio and the big gum tree.
Then they started hitting me. The what if question. And all their sidekicks. What if we did buy this place. What if, what if, what if, what if. With what if, we could fit Paris in a bottle, my mother used to say, pointing at the vacuity of the exercise.
Winter has set here, the solstice about to signal the slow rise of seasons yet to come.
It feels at times like a dreadful sludge, winter. Time to not panic. Settle, warm up, and not get overwhelmed. Keep the discipline, the routine and the practices.
Trust in the transitions happening.
Soon enough I was back at the football ground. Jean waiting, Sid playing, Zsuzsa home. My friend Andy and his children invited us for a backyard fire. These are the sounds of us eating dessert around the fire.
Winter can also feel like this.
Manifesting heat. From within.
