Bright Spots | Week Eighteen

“It is necessary to write, if the days are not to slip emptily by. How else, indeed, to clap the net over the butterfly of the moment?” Vita Sackville-West

Okonomiyaki for dinner at home, stirring a jolt of excitement for our future travels in the east. Forgotten birthday vouchers, which are this week taking us to the theatre and facilitating a whimsical purchase in the bookshop (!). Savouring Grandma’s jam tarts, the taste of my childhood, as Grandad completes ‘the cryptic’ in his seat beside the window. A brief wafer of minutes to sit in the sun and talk with a friend. My sweet roommate and his unfailing patience in making me hot water bottles and cups of coffee. Napping on the blanket the cat loves, in the afternoon hours, the whistle of sparrows just beyond the windows, the everyday errands of urban life echoing beyond. These are the days of simple pleasures, easy joy. Daylight at seven, the cat on the windowsill, emerald shoots coursing through earth. Evening last thrown through London planes. Delicate-leaved nasturtiums thriving in the windowbox. 8pm skies blue like sun-faded sheets. Bookshops, which I haunt like a ghost on gloomy lunch hours, flipping through travel guides, dreaming of lush hillsides and meandering rivers far from home.

A handful of nights ago I walked down my favourite street, cheeks still rosy from a teary moment at the office, and took in green, gleaming Dolly (the best vintage car in the neighbourhood) and the cherry blossoms whistling overhead, and a crescent moon hung high in the sky. I watched as a businessman in requisite tailored suit nudged open his front gate with his knees, arms full with potted marigolds, pausing a moment to look up at the exquisite coral sky. This; this is spring, I thought. I smiled the rest of the way home.

{this blog seems, lately, a receptacle for bright spots and bright spots alone. nothing wrong with that, I know, but a brief service announcement seemed apt – it’s that time at work where I leave the office in the dark and spend all hours reading reams at my desk, so my plans for words on this and that and everything in between are – as ever – on hold. one day, one day, I’ll finally find the time to finish all those half-written drafts. I hope you are well. ❤ }