I think it was Pat who called it the sea inside. It’s an image that has stayed with me because it fits so well. One minute it’s a limpid blue Mediterranean sea on a hot calm day. Suddenly a careless speedboat goes by and the waves appear, a bit choppy and unsettling. All very well if you have something to hang onto; less good if you have been snorkelling face down, looking at the water through your mask. If you are lucky it stops there, but some mornings you wake up to grey seas with menacing, angry surf, noisy waves that drag back the shingle, shredding you, and you are supposed to climb into your canoe and get out there.
Friday I felt like I had been crying even when I wasn’t. My eyes were salt sore. Finally, I took my doctor friend’s advice and called the surgery. They advised a week or two away from one of my places of work. I steeled myself and informed the boss, and thanked the heavens that the response was sympathetic. Yesterday, a month since mother died, I had my life jacket in place and the day got easier, ending with an evening spent in the company of friends I have known for years. Even MasterB’s determination to stay out and thus keep me out of bed until gone one in the morning didn’t overset me.
Today I had plans to go out and about; to do things. They didn’t happen. I wanted to be at home. I got as far as the market to buy some plants for the hanging baskets. Then I baked my first cake in my little Remoska, cleaned a cupboard and lost two hours.
Getting the plants was a good move. I met the new puppy, Megan, of the stallholders. She is just twelve weeks old, an adorable, cuddlesome Staffie. I know she is going to have a good life. They used to have a yellow Labrador who came to the market with them. She had a tennis ball, and amid all the people, the hustle and bustle, she played all day. I never learned her name, but I threw the tennis ball for her many times. Megan is tethered, too young to have her freedom yet, but she had already had five walks in the park by the time I arrived.
Home again, I started baking the cake which was already packed into the Remoska. After a while it smelled wonderful, but although the top looked cooked, when I poked it with a fork, the interior was still raw. Eventually the fork emerged clean, and i got a rather charred looking cake. Next time I shall bake a smaller one. Cleaning the cupboard was a good move too. I had quinoa on my shopping list for this week, and found a jar of it that I had quite forgotten. In the garden, the hanging baskets were joined by a pot of unspecified Patio Plants in a nice earthenware pot that was half price in Marks and Spencer. If it hadn’t been so heavy, I’d have got two. MasterB helped me with the gardening, checking each plant before it was put in a new place. He increasingly seeks me out in the garden.
I was still thinking of going out, but somehow couldn’t do it. I just wanted to be quietly at home. So come six o’clock, I took the bits of yesterday’s paper I still hadn’t read, my camera and a glass of red wine, and sat in the garden with MasterB.
My sea is not as calm as a millpond tonight, but the wavelets are alright. I think it was a good decision to stay at home and have some space.