Please God help me stay calm and steady through this next period of change. Help me decide WHEN to move, and WHERE, and manage the money and the packing and logistics, and finding a new doctor’s and all of it. Help me figure out all the Stuff. Suddenly everything becomes trash: all the half-used bottles of cleaner and unfinished packets of spices. My 3 weeks’ worth of dinners in the freezer. Sauces: mustard, mango, soy. The occasional fridge stuff, that’s the killer. Anything that can’t easily come on a journey needs to be thrown out or given away. Booooooooooks. So many, many books. Too many things. Edinburgh in winter–maybe 6 hours of daylight? Is this a good idea? But if we really are proceeding to exit the EU in…five months’ time then Folkestone won’t be where I want to live. Too close to the import/export waiting centres. Every kind of human misery will be coming that way. Dear God can no one save us from this act of national insanity?
Two walks yesterday–noon to visit the foreshore, where I picked up trash from the beach & felt virtuous, and again at 9 after finishing “The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie.” Wasn’t ready for bed & didn’t want to watch TV. Walked as far as The Grapes in a drizzle. Not too busy out but still plenty of folks for our narrow streets. As I passed The Grapes an employee emerged wearing a face mask and one of those plastic sneeze shields that have become so popular. I crossed over and peeked in–just one customer that I could see. Other staff behind the bar not masked. Must have got a sharp piece of gravel or a little glass in my sandal because when I got home shreds of skin were peeling off painfully, though no blood, thank goodness. Walking through the tiny wilderness area in King Edward Memorial Park smelling the rain in the surprisingly lingering late evening light I was reminded of summer evenings of my childhood, that fresh vegetation smell like the world has just bathed. I expected the cedar trees to give off their spicy scent as I walked under them home but there was just a hint of it–I wonder if the sap runs more at different times of day, or whether the sunny heat, as I’ve definitely been there when the cedar fragrance is all-encompassing.
A few good Thames foreshore finds yesterday. My collection grows. I really need a display case for it all. I could mount it myself but I’m afraid of damaging something valuable. A coin collection box seems like the way to go until I can research safe pottery display techniques or get something custom built. Fluffy cotton-wool clouds today. My calendar as usual is full of Important Tasks but I kind of just want to bask in the hammock. Bit chilly for it though. I intended to repot some of my big plants but I don’t think I got enough soil for it. Need some gravel as well, so say my parents.
Collected three bits of pottery from shore yesterday–must have been a good day for it as I saw a methodical man combing through the shoreline with a trowel. My approach is of course much more haphazard, but I’m also not looking for anything other than bright colours and interesting shapes.
Is moving out of the city a good or terrible idea for Brexit Britain? Bloody tax avoiders–I wish we could stop this awful farce. We’re going to be a nation of smuggling and money laundering. We’ve already made ourselves a place nobody wants to bother living in. I could look for jobs in Europe but the thought of emigrating yet again wearies me to the bone. And climate change-wise I need to be thinking north not south. I feel anxious and unable to make choices of such magnitude. No wonder the days spin past with no choices made.
If I only have 18 or 20 years left on the planet and they look different to now, how will I live my life differently (if at all?) Mostly what I feel is that I miss the sea: exploring the Thames at low tide has reacquainted me with those missed rhythms. But it’s not the same.
Pubs, restaurants and other venues allowed to open today. Boris Johnson has churlishly designated this “independence day” which I find crass and opportunistic. I think all the sensible people will take a “wait and see” approach, meaning only the truly foolhardy are venturing out this weekend. Good reason to stay inside.
On yesterday’s walk I ran into a young singer and a photographer clearly planning a photo or video shoot on the shoreline. They chose what I thought a rather odd place for it: rather than the dramatic backdrop of the bulwarks under the terrace next to Pelican Stairs they were on the sandy bit of shore by the steps behind the apartments I can never remember the names of. I could hear the singer saying he wanted to do some things close to his roots but he didn’t want to do any Afro-beats. He wanted to do trance music. Then I walked off. Wapping is very yuppie-white. A few Indian and Pakistani families, though I think most of the young urban teens I see walking by are actually from Shadwell. It was exciting to see a young Black artist sharing the space I use to collect shards of pottery and stare at boats. Tried to get to bed earlier last night. Managed 11:15 but read until just past midnight. I can feel my body alive and wanting the attention of pleasure but I can never seem to settle on a fantasy that feels right: they take odd turns or develop plot lines that don’t lead towards sex. Maybe I’m starting too far back: I usually try to start from why they’d be in the room with me–a chance encounter, a series of flirtations leading up to the intimacy I crave. But I’m either asleep or my mind has wandered on a different tangent by the time we get to the undressing bit. I haven’t felt very lonely in lockdown, for the most part–I rather like my quiet secluded life, it feels natural to me. And honestly not very different to the normal pace of my existence. But yesterday I felt it. The quiet repetition of a thousand evenings just like it. Tied to my computers, multiple, unable to switch work off at the end of the day because of trying to get the approval for my research paper to go through hto the conference. Instead of truly settling in to my free time I was tied to the desk, shuffling over to the work laptop occasionally to check progress. It made my world feel small. For me, the loneliness isn’t about lack of contact with others: I have a rich and vibrant network of friends and family. It’s more about feeling unable to connect with myself or others because of the intrusion of work–or rather because of the choice that I make to prioritise work over other important parts of myself. And then filling in the waiting with “junk attention”– scrolling on social media with no intention to engage fully, just for something to do. Watching a TV show I’ve watched a dozen times already to fill a background space. Checking my phone while eating. But what’s in the foreground on an evening like that? It feels thin–lonely.
Yesterday evening I was watching the dramatic clouds at intervals: sunshine broken up by heavy bands of rain. At one point the basin was being splashed so hard it looked like diamonds rippling across the surface of the water. And we had a lovely rainbow. I’m getting more used to my new pudgy love handles, the Rubenesque body.
It’s 11:30 now, too late for a walk before the groceries at 1. But if I wait until the afternoon it’ll be crowded. And if I don’t walk I’ll become old before my time. The pandem-paunch is bothering me but only I have the power to change it. Walked to the ATM at Shadwell yesterday to change all the PINs on all my cards. Apparently no regard for distancing, not that it’s possible up there given how the road and sidewalks are configured. No, I won’t be going anywhere I can’t reach on foot any time soon. My emergency savings, I worked out, is only good for 3 months. Need to be more diligent. But I keep buying “pandemic soothers”: weighted blanket, cover for weighted blanket, new plant pots, special guacamole keeper pot, bralettes… my spending on unnecessaries hasn’t been great. But I still find the idea of moving from Newlands Quay hard to stomach. At least if I’m staying in London. I think I’ll give myself until September to decide.
Pelican Stairs 