Saturday 2nd October 2010: Marseillette FR.
I don’t seem to respect my alarm clock anymore, even though I set two. Maybe I need to trigger off the snooze facility again. The best laid plans of mice and men…and girls by the sound of it!
I was warm under the duvet when I finally realised the consequences of the events from yesterday. It was quiet. There was no other breath or movement in the room. As much as I didn’t want it to, I was plunged into the same ache I had started to feel yesterday evening. I looked at the clock and was now cross with myself because it was 9.36am and I had set my alarms for 7.30am and 8.30am respectively so I could visit the bread van down the bottom of the hill. I had about 20 minutes before it would leave. I resolved myself to get dressed properly when I returned and pulled on what I had on yesterday before walking to get two large baguettes and two pain au chocolat.
Breakfast was a quiet affair. No one to wait for me or I for them. I hated it, and knew that it would be only the first of many. I took the book which I have started to read outside and sat on the patio to eat the first meal of the day. The book at least allows me to escape into another world for a brief moment before returning to mine. Its called ‘The Glass Painters Daughter’ by Rachel Hore. I am up to Chapter 15 and it is all about a woman who returns back to her Father’s Home because he had suffered a stroke, someone she hasn’t seen in 12 years. She has been away travelling and playing in Orchestra’s in different places. She returns to discover that fragments of a stained glass window that was destroyed in WW2 has been found, that together with a journal, she is starting to piece together their lives as well as that of her own. Im about half way through and it is quite good. It is helping me with the structure of my own book I can see that there are teasing references of something that the author knows, but is not letting on to the reader. The author leads you to read more by giving you a clue and then providing you with another before you can grasp the first one. It’s a bit like having berries enticing you along a path so you get nearer and nearer until….well, you’ll either be captured, or you’ll find the treasure at last. A huge metaphor for me at the moment!!
So, after catching a quick shut eye on the sofa I have moved to, I am reminded by my friend that I can’t spend all day sleeping and so I resolve myself to wade through the month of no writing and try and piece together each day from the last month. It is a momentous task, and I wonder if it is going to allow me to see things from a different light. Like stained glass windows which shine differently at different times of day, I wonder if things that have come to pass will too look differently. I plunge into my writing, hoping to find answers to the incessant questions I ask.
I spend the rest of the day writing and by the time 18.00 comes, I have caught up on a weeks writing. Only three more weeks to catch up writing about and then I will be there.I do not want to wade through this much stuff again. The problem is that when I have this much stuff to write about about, I'm just telling you what I did, rather than asking you to listen to me while I share the experience. For me it is a pointless task telling you. I want you to imagine you're there with me! And I can only do that if I write about it the same day when my memory and feelings are freshly experienced!
My friend returns from working and I try my hand at making an omelette and it goes well for supper with chips. Watch a bit of TV to wind down and then its time for bed.
I sit in bed ready to continue reading my book and I find that the light above it needs moving to a different angle. Warning: Never touch a red hot halogen bulb. I’m lucky it wasn’t my right writing hand! As I attempted to twist the light into a different direction, I took hold of the glass part with my thumb, and I swear it has melted my thumb print off. If I was cross going to bed, then this made me feel even more pissed off. After running it under a cold tap for a few minutes, and going back to move the light with the plastic end, I continued my escape in my book until sleep took over.