It’s the most beautiful late afternoon/early evening today so I’ve wandered down the garden to sit and write in the summer-house…not a very upmarket summer-house but it does for me because it is far enough away from the cottage not to hear the phone or the doorbell and I love to hear the wind blowing through the trees down here.
I always feel September is a month of change – not only change of season but a time for reflection and planning ahead. It’s difficult to plan too far ahead (for obvious reasons) but I do hope I can travel more in 2021 and I am beginning to think about how this Autumn and Winter might look. If the weather is very wet I may just get some ‘proper’ writing done as I’ll be confined to the house (horrid thought); dry days will hopefully mean I can do some more work in the garden. I am much more an outdoor than indoor person.
A couple of days ago (1st September to be precise) I took advantage of waking early to just sit in bed, look out of the window and think: the Peter Sarstedt song, ‘Where do you go to my lovely’, went through my head…making me ponder the fact that none of us know what anyone else is thinking of, do we? We all seem to know so much about other’s lives today but only we know our own private and deepest thoughts.
I do enjoy the view from my bed, possibly because there are no distractions. Sitting there, I wondered what my grandparents would have thought about the possibility of a virus having such an effect on life…not just the practicalities of living with Covid but how people are interpreting ‘how’ to live with it. Some people are using the common-sense approach, some are totally blasé and some are taking it to the nth degree – it is causing arguments between people too!
Personally, I am totally confused. In one restaurant yesterday drinks were served on a tray and it was apparent the waitress was scared to touch our glasses yet our meals were handed to us by the plate. When recounting this to my OH he agreed it’s a little crazy adding, ‘But how did the glasses get on the tray, someone must have touched them’…
Sitting in bed I could visualise my paternal Granny in her apron, thick tights and black boots, pushing a strand of her snow-white hair out of her face (she always wore her hair in a small bun at the back of her head).
My maternal Granny was quite the opposite – she dyed her hair reddish-brown, wore crimplene dresses, always had earrings in and often had a cigarette (a ‘fake’ as she would say in her Redditch dialect) sticking out the side of her mouth: they were chalk and cheese.
Both Grandads had fought in the war and were quiet men (my Grandad Somner was a bit of a hero though).
Thinking about my grandparents and other family members – and some of my closest friends – always puts a smile on my face. They have all had an effect on who I am and I love to spend time thinking about them. Some old friends with whom I have lost touch come to mind and I wonder how they are faring this year.
So, where do you go to my lovelies when you’re alone in your bed?
I’ve always been curious about what people think about…maybe It’s Just this Girl’s Thing?