New World Week 21 In Review
I’ve got stuff to do.
The ocean keeps a’calling like a siren and I’m lured.
The cool woods keep whispering that the dog needs walking.
The sofa is seductive.
Midday siestas are magnetic.
There’s a blinking heatwave happening.
Loads of outstanding stuff to do.
Which hasn’t been done.
But, here’s my week in review.
There was once a time when I checked my social media when I woke up in the morning.
Then, there was a time when I checked the Covid-19 updates when I opened my eyes.
Now, all I check is Magic Seaweed for when the tides are high or low.
My mother’s garden, upside down, through the lens of a photography orb.
A gift for my mama from me.
After all, she did give birth to me and have to work out what to give me for dinner each night for many years.
She deserves something nice.
Said mother, appreciating her gift.
Then losing said gift to Reid.
Roo and I developing our beach bum look.
Reid and I went out on lots of cycles/runs (he cycles, I run).
Loads of cyclists use the lanes that we use and Reid got ALLLL the love from his fellow bike-riders.
When we got home and he’d had his glass of cold orange, he declared, “Mum, I’m going to stop wearing football clothes and start wearing cyclist uniforms instead. Is that okay?”
I acted with supreme indifference when he said this.
On the inside I was having a silent disco.
“Course you can,” I replied evenly.
There. Are. No Words. To. Describe. This. Win.
*Tomatoes and Cyclists*
Speaking of bicycles, my super talented husband has been busy this week preparing a pilot meal for the LeBlanq tour in September.
He’ll be working with Ashley Palmer-Watts to produce the feast for the cyclists as they make their way around the island.
We’ll be showcasing all of the delicious things that our little diamond in the sea has to offer, including Mermaid Gin, Vampire garlic and Isle of Wight tommies, such as these little beauties that are currently sitting on the side in our kitchen.
On his day off, Ads came and met us on the beach, went spear fishing and caught us a lovely seabass which we had for dinner with salad, pomegranate seeds and charred sweetcorn.
The orange crab he’s holding was inside the bass’ stomach.
Which made me feel better for eating the bass.
Though, this opens the question of what might now eat me … Eek.
Despite me calling him Roo, my fifteen year old’s name is actually Rowan.
Turns out, the name Rowan means “red” in Scottish.
Reid was called Reid because Lou Reed died in the year I was pregnant and I liked Lou Reed.
I would have called Reid “Reed”, except it felt too hippy.
It turned out, when I looked much later, that the name Reid also means “red” in Scottish.
Coincidence or what??
I have no connection to Scotland.
In my head I call Rowan and Reid my two Red Men.
And this is Chris. My lovely step-father.
Marching said step-father down to the beach for a late evening low tide so that we could use the photographic orb to capture the pink skies and mercurial waters.
The sunset across the coast of our island on the way back home.
And the waning moon, a few nights before.
Here he is again.
My Red Man, Roo.
He was supposed to be coming out on a dog-walk with me and Frida.
This was how he came.
At 15, whilst most kids are crippled with self consciousness, to see Rowan maturing into adulthood with such poise, intelligence and dignity, makes me truly proud.
He then aborted the walk and insisted that I go alone up the hot, sultry hill and through the dry, rustling grasses.
On my dehydrated return this is how I found the little gringo.
Spontaneous visit to library due to needing to kill twenty minutes and remembering how AMAZING it is being able to walk away with armfuls of free books that I am never going to get around to reading but will place in a pile in my house and gaze at with dreamy hope.
Spending a bit of time with Pix, Roo and Reid all together at my mum’s house. And eating all of her lemon drizzle cake.
Seeing our beautiful friend Elizabeth (who is also Reid’s piano teacher) and her blonde bear, Millie.
Surrendering to screens. Since I’ve stopped feeling guilty about the kids using screens too much, I am miraculously a lot happier. I also just sat and ate the last White Chocolate Magnum from the freezer in front of Reid and he didn’t even notice because he was so absorbed in his game.
Ignoring the rain and heading to the beach so Roo could go spearfishing. Seeing seals and an incredible electric blue kingfisher.
Observing the seasonal changes, which highlight the maturing year … and the continued discombobulation caused by Covid-19 and the changes it has brought. Things appear to be going back to normal, but they’re not normal. And psychologically we have all changed through this process. There’s a feeling of “getting on with it” and continuing in the old ways, but none of that feels very solid. There’s such confusion and frustration and disempowerment in the air.
Wanting to plan a trip abroad for my birthday in January but not knowing if we will ever be able to travel abroad the same way again.
Waiting for the promised thunderstorms here on the island. None have arrived so far.
Attempting to buy Reid school trousers that fit when none of the changing rooms are open and then said son declaring he’d forgotten to wear pants that day ANYWAY so there’d be no sneaky aisle changes going on. Bought clothes, brought them home. Nothing fitted.
Helpful people pointing out that school may not even open in September anyway.
A massive, clanging, Odin-thumping thunderstorm to hit.
Lashings of cold rain.
Loads of thunder and lightening.
For the storm to pass.
Completion of magazine article and illustration.
Final tie-ups for the Rebel Beauty designs and layout.
Art commission for a lovely lady completed.
Reduced screen time for the kids (because after my initial surrender, I have admittedly, become twitchy once more).
Taking Reid’s school uniform back to town and returning it all to the shop.
Something breath-takingly magical to occur. Life … you may surprise me!
Have a great week, beautiful ones. xx