Placelessness

Well, dear world, here we are again. I feel almost obliged to tell you exactly what has happened since I last wrote, although I'm not sure I will because I'm not sure it's entirely necessary.

Since arriving in this country I have built up an immense multi-coloured shield of all kinds of strong, patient and gentle. My kids are just that, my kids...and they shouldn't be. It's one of the biggest and deepest challenges I think I've faced in a very long time if not ever.
The intense gratification and warmth in the bubble of unconditional love of children but the hardest anguish yet- I'm not theirs and they aren't mine and they shouldn't be in the situation where they feel like this. It is as hard for them as it is for me but they aren't yet emotionally equipped to deal with it and sometimes I wonder whether even I am.

It is becoming a force against my morale staying here, but magnet to my heart.

Everybody needs a family and the world is as small as you make it.

There are beautiful people in beautiful places

Today I am not sitting in an awkward position or in an awkward place and I don't even feel slightly awkward. It is sunny, hot, but the evening sunshine is gentle and the breeze is soft- I can tell because I have the bay window doors open and I can hear the occasional tick of something hard clanking against something harder in the wind. It's not invasive, though, don't worry. In fact sometimes it ticks along to the sound of my now horrifically loud music. (Moddi- Rubbles, incase you were wondering.)

I am alone but I do not feel lonely, not today. I drink ice cold mango juice and remark how dark my hands look against the apple white keyboard. The bay window doors are open because I had to break into my own house after coming back from Greenman festival because I forgot my key- I climbed over the back gate and revealed my overtly frilly, silk knickers to the world for the umpteenth time today. They are pretty. Everyone needs to see, I decided. Mostly my wonderful love doesn't seem to agree so much, though. I love him.

There are beautiful people in beautiful places. I got back from Moulins sur Allier on Wednesday night for my A level results on Thursday. I took the train there, and we took the train back together, my love and I. My journey there was tiring and sad. I hate being alone and lonely, I retreat into my imagination and the tears have no room so have to leak and it's sad.
 I stayed overnight with my crazy, beautiful friend in Paris and her sister and twin cousins- except 'one of them ate all the food in the womb and is bigger and brainier.' We walked around their flat in our underwear and sat on their warm, warm terrace at night and watched the lights and listened to the trains. My french is getting a lot better. We talked about buddhism and the flowers their mum planted on the terrace before it started to rain and we went inside.

Festivals are full of magic things. Smiles and dancing all night and small people holding you close. Swimming in lakes, green dripping hair, sunburn and smiling. Shooting stars and orange moons so you don't need a torch. Bats fluttering, flapping, so close and screaming, peeping so you keep still and listen. Like butterflies only bigger, growling.
Naragonia play beautiful music. They play so kindly, so so gently the notes tip-toe. They have smalls, very small smalls, and you can tell. They are gentle like lullabies so they can play and the smalls can sleep. Hushed dancing.
Thunderstorms and jelly and my most favourite people in the whole world..-

I try not to think about leaving
It takes away the fullness of my heart sometimes.

I got good A level results. But they're just letters on a piece of paper. And I'm not sure I want to go to University even when I get back from the Netherlands. I need to apply for Oxbridge but my enthusiasm fluctuates. But if I don't go to university, what do I do?

sometimes beautiful places are only beautiful because of the beautiful people that you love.

Pitter patter

Ok, well, now it's raining.
And it sounds beautiful and adds no sense of woe to my dreary mood whatsoever. It's like a gentle little song in the background- lullaby raindrops.

This weekend has been lovely but tainted and sad but beautiful. I am sentimental, perhaps overly so sometimes, but this weekend will have been the last trip up North I will make before I leave and it's a little bit heartbreaking. I love it there and I love the ocean and the hills and the estuary and the way the lights of Aberdovey really do twinkle across the water...
And the music and the dancing and the beer and the kitchen music and rambling and red wine and listening and hugging.
It is magic.

But my love remains, no matter how far away.
I wish he could come with with me. I really wish we didn't have to spend so much time apart.

They played music this weekend, I listened, read, remembered. They play beautiful tunes and A writes them all herself from her window overlooking the tumbling hills and the farm. She tells me about the birds and jokes that the dance that the sheep are doing is Breton because they are all in a line. Then the dog runs at them and they scamper in different directions- this one is the Kinnersley Bourrée, where we run at eachother and shriek.

These are all facts.

Then we drink tea and eat biscuits or sit in the garden and name insects and talk about trees and vegetables.

So, as you can imagine this time, the train journey back would probably prove difficult. So.. this time I decided to write a list of my favourite things, in the style of Julie Andrews. That way I wouldn't feel so bad. But I didn't sing them. Which is a pity. But there was a small on the train singing her heart out and I simply didn't want to detract attention.

Instead I kept writing and I now have a 5 page dissertation (in bullet points) of my favourite things.

Which is rather alot more productive than crying until I give my eyes a rash (again), I think. And so I am a little bit proud.

Nevertheless, my life is full of beautiful things.

Kittens and Sunshine and Singing for the sea

I'm sitting in my love's back garden with two kittens feeling the cool grass under their paws and the sun on their fur for the very first time! They have their leads on and wide eyes as they chase bugs and potter in the sun! They come back for hugs every few minutes, after all this is scary business. It's all very exciting but they still need their hugs... It's very endearing, this. Looking after baby cats!

Last night they played music to the sea and we danced under the streetlamps. I didn't play because I'm giving my violin and fingers a nap after all their hard work for my Grade 8. The sea wind caught Ceri's harp and it sang and sang! I think the sea hums in Eb. We closed our eyes and pressed our ears agains the humming body of the harp, grinning.

It was beautiful and we ran to the sea and shrieked and danced and danced... Then we ate crumpets and drank ginger beer. I love it here.

The night before we walked so high we could see the sea. And the crunching twigs in the half light, the stream sparkles. The bats singing and the smell of forests at night.

Later we go back down South together to where I live to see my Grandma.. and even she's from cuckoo-clock land, where the hills are alps and snowy and nests and all at the same time. She's just come to visit. I have missed her...

But I do love it here. And the Sea.