Wednesday, 27 April 2011

Puttery Afternoon

I have an application form that I really should be filling in, but there is something about this April afternoon that makes me see just why Elizabeth Von Arnim called it The Enchanted April. I am propped sitting on my bed, propped up on a cloud of pillows, with an afternoons work strewn around me. There is the job description (for my own job, that I am reapplying for!) and the radio. My dishcloth that I started knitting this morning, a novel, a few recipe books, my phone, my lovely bristle hair brush that makes my scalp tingle, and a pad of paper with lots of notes on subjects diverse from 'a menu for my royal wedding tea party' to 'evaluating partnerships associated with key strategic objectives' taking in 'books I should like to read' and 'pennies spent today' along the way!

The windows are open, and the curtains seem to be breathing the sweet afternoon air, swelling gently in and out. There is a blackbird singing, and the breeze is swishing through the brances and leaves.

To be fair, I have done some work on my application. The bones of it are in place, my initial opening gambit is pinned to the page with ink. But my mind wont focus, it keeps skittering away like a butterfly, and already I have arranged insurance for our new home, sent an email to a dear friend, and perused the brocante pin board more times that I ought! In just a moment I am going to take myself off to the kitchen to experiment with some wheat free vegan scones ready for Friday. But perhaps just a line or two more of knitting before I go...

To me, April afternoons like this are forever England. Even though it is a work day for most people, somehow I expect to hear the thwack of a cricket bat against a ball, or to catch out of the corner of my eye bunting fluttering at a church fete. It is cooler than it looks, you need a cardigan to cover your arms, but it is sandal wearing weather necessitating pretty painted toenails. I feel like these moments are almost liquid, that they could go on, and on. That part of me will always be here, typing and reading and knitting and thinking and planning. Wearing a flowery dress with red lipstick, flicking my hair over my shoulder and marvelling at how it is growing, at last, at last! That even as the radio beep beep beeps the hour with radio 4, time is still at the same time. I have a lot of uncertainty at the moment, a lot of change is afoot. Some is good and I can control, such as our move, but it is still the unknown, but a lot is unknown and I can't control, like my work situation. But somehow, through it all, I will keep this little moment of calm and quiet.

In just a few weeks, someone else will be sitting in this bedroom, making friends with my squirrel, seeing that tree out of their window. But just on the edge of their hearing, they will hear a happy sigh, and that will be me, still here, still here.

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