Surrounded by the debris of yesterdays winds, small broken branches from the Oak are strewn on the floor and it’s another chilly start to the day. A heavy blanket of cloud with every shade of grey etched into it crawls across the sky. A Robin singing in the Oak is being answered from some distance away. My usual guests the Starlings sit high in the Ash. A few Magpies bob here and there, they have been absent of late. The wind is more of a breeze than the gale of yesterday, but it’s another chilly one. A quieter day today, drumming with children yesterday, means my inner child was very much to the fore. I have books piling up on my desk which I need to start wading through. Wading is a bit loaded, which I need to read feels better. However I have this thing about sitting still and reading, the internal struggle that it is not a productive use of my time. My process is read, take notes of things that interest me, reread and move on. So it takes time to make progress through the pile. The hours fly by and I have to fight the consistent thoughts that I should be doing something, busying myself, or achieving something. I have noticed myself how much my reading informs that daily check in and conjures up thoughts and reflections. It invites understanding, and illuminates the past, the future and my surroundings. I fell out of love with reading when I left college, being forced to read was not the same as loving to read. The journey back to loving it was a long one. It took some time to get it back. My companions on commutes to London were often books. The first place I go to in any town is a bookshop. The author Anna Quindlen wrote :
“ Books are the plane, and the train, and the road. They are the destination, and the journey. They are home."
Though now with the resurgence of vinyl, the record shop is sneaking back up the charts for me. A step back into my childhood of thumbing, shelves, sleeves looking for the latest or the rarity and of conversations, of picture discs, artwork, gatefold sleeves and of course music. The advent of the ‘Walkman’ and the ability to transport your music with you was excitement beyond compare. Books and your own music where ever you are or choose to be or on the journey between both. And now it's as if life has gone full circle. I am back to the beginning, books and records were the backdrop of my teenage years and earlier and here we are into my 60’s and back again. It’s interesting that books and music take you on a journey, or accompany you on a journey. I always have a pile of books with me wherever I go. The campervan has at least five new ones, old ones, favourites, informational and escapist. They are the first to be considered along with the music. I could write for an age on this, but time is against me. Books and music today. Lovely days people.
“ Literature is the most agreeable way of ignoring life.” Fernando Pessoa.
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