Shoeshining

There is something about shining my shoes that speaks to me from my childhood. I was surrounded by a generation of men who had served in the forces and shining their shoes to a high polish was second nature to them. We were taught how to use "spit and polish" in primary school and the habit has stuck.

I love the smell of shoe polish and the moment of thought, rather than action as I work the polish in with the brush. Afterwards, I admire my shiny shoes; a job well done.

I will be wearing them tomorrow to bury one of the last of the older generation of my family. Apart from my father, he will be the one that I will really miss. There will be a long drive - a total of seven hours in the car - and I would have liked to have lingered for a day or two along a Southern coast that I don't really know but I still have many things to do here before the end of the month.

I am feeling drained after a few weeks of intensive work and unsettled home life. I should be able to relax a little more now but I am wistful and unsettled and have much to ponder as I brush my shoes.

Compersion (When Strangers Touch Your Lives)

An online life is an odd thing but, for me it has been very positive. It has enhanced my own life, especially during the darkest days, in a way that I simply couldn't explain to someone who had not experienced it.

Strangers touch your lives and do it in a very profound way. Bonding takes place through shared interests, perhaps culinary, musical or sexual, and it is possible to grow very close. This is rare for me; I seldom let down my guard and can be a very distant man, seeming not to trust people but this is me and I am thankful when people accept me for who I am.

I have described myself as someone who, for deeply set reasons, does not feel love. This is not strictly true but, on the whole I maintain an emotional distance born of childhood self-preservation; something that is not easy to overcome.

Having  a degree of feelings for someone who is not going to share your life is never going to be easy but I have found that it can actually be a pleasure in itself, and something to quietly celebrate. Online friends almost inevitably disappear as their circumstances change but that fragment of love can linger. A song or a mouthful of food is going to raise a smile for the rest of my life and I think that is a lovely thing.

I was reading an article about polyamorous life recently and came across the word compersion. Here is the quote:

"Compersion ...is the little warm glow that you get when you see somebody you really care about loving somebody else and being loved."

I do get that little warm glow.
Its a lovely feeling.

I smile.

Naked In the Garden

The warmer weather has coincided with a few days with lazy starts; the sort of day when its good to go to make some coffee and toast and carry them back to bed. I did this most mornings during a recent holiday and took advantage of a very secluded garden to slip out of my bathrobe and walk out into the fresh air while the coffee brewed.

The sensation is one of freedom; a sensual moment. One morning, I walked out into fine raindrops and I enjoyed them on my skin while my feet could feel the wet grass. On the last morning, it was sunny and I picked up my camera as I stepped into the garden. Seeing myself reflected in the French doors, I captured a memento:

Back here at home, I cannot roam as freely but there is a strip of  garden outside the kitchen door where I can walk unobserved so I slip out of my bathrobe, hang it over the arm of a garden chair, open my arms and embrace the day.

An Interlude

Life has its ups and downs and it can be all to easy to ignore the small pleasure that are there to delight us and lift us when we need it.

I have neglected this blog and now, with summer finally behaving like summer should, I have returned to write some more posts.

Sunny, Frosty Morning Walks

I slept soundly last night after some busy days and, this morning,  I was tempted to take a cup of tea back
to bed for a while but then I looked out of the window. The sun was just starting to stream slantwise across
a frozen landscape. As soon as I saw it,  I knew that breakfast would have to wait while I walked out across the fields with my camera.

These mornings have a sharp, clean quality to them to them; a clarity and lightness that lifts my spirits.
My walks are so often meditations on work or family issues but on mornings such as this, I am alert to my surroundings, cheered by the beauty that surrounds me and excited by fresh prospects and vistas as
I turn another corner of the frosty lane.

Indigo

I love colour and read a lot about the origins of various pigments and the history of the use of colour. I am very sensitive to tiny variations of  hue and sometimes a small dash of a particular colour in a room or on a painting can give a feeling of immediate pleasure. I think that it is something that speaks deeply to us.

Indigo, that extract from the leaves of Indigofera tinctoria, is a particular favourite of mine and I have found myself wearing a lot of indigo coloured clothes this year.

I'm not a casual clothes buyer, preferring to consider at length before I make a purchase but indigo has obviously held a great attraction for me, in both its natural and synthetic hues.

So here I am, at my desk this afternoon:

I wanted to put myself into the picture today. I have had some months of uncertain health and have withdrawn from time to time. This is one way of saying that I am back.

The City At Night

I'm a country boy through and through.

Night noises for me are the hooting of owls, the sneezing of hedgehogs and rustles of deer passing through.
I love to take a walk through the lanes lit by the moon alone, or gaze up at the sky full of stars.

Even when I travel, I prefer to find a country hotel but, once in a while, I will stay in the heart of a city.
Here I am wide eyed as a child with the glow of lights and the signs of all the people; the traffic and voices.

I still enjoy the novelty of buying a coffee and a sandwich in what seems like the middle of the night and sitting with them in the corner, reading a novel or scribbling in my notebook until its time to walk back to my hotel room, kick off my clothes and launch myself into the crisp clean sheets.