Saturday March 8, 2008
I denied all credit for it, honest I did, but I do confess that I preened just a little when Graham complimented me on how well I’d kept the house while he was away.
“All I did was sit still and not make a mess,” I protested.
“If that’s so then you’ve perfected it until it’s close to an art form.”
Thinking about it, it’s true that sitting still and not making a mess, taken together with emptying the head and finding there’s nothing there is really rather Zen. I should write a book. Zen and the art of not making a mess. Sounds quite good, that.
Graham has returned with even more determination to get us back to West Wales. I agree the time is right for us once more.
Wales is a strange place. Once it gets into your soul you can never quite loose yourself from it. Like the cry of the curlew and the curled-beak sneer of the you can’t catch me gull, once you’ve heard its song then your silences are never the same.
The author, webmaster, and minder of the cat
12 responses so far ↓
louphoria // March 8, 2008 at 10:53 am
Beautifully put John, I went on the wing with the gull and a wash of summer evenings with the curlews call flooded my mind. Lovely.
Kate & Jim // March 8, 2008 at 11:12 am
You sent me to that place too, John. Not exactly to Wales - but to where ‘my’ soul wanders every now and again.
And so early in the morning, too.
gary // March 8, 2008 at 12:52 pm
My great-grandfather was a tiny little Welshman. I want to visit there more than any other place, well, Sligo too.
Margery // March 8, 2008 at 1:10 pm
On our first visit to the UK in 1995 we blundered into West Wales–north, south and central, knowing nothing about it–and were enchanted. As usual, you Old Grey Poet, you, your lucid words brought a chill down my spine. Here’s to good writing and curlews–and away with suburbia!!
Alison P // March 8, 2008 at 1:13 pm
I’ve never lived there, only holidayed, but it feels like home to me every time I go there. There’s no place like it.
bonnie // March 8, 2008 at 1:47 pm
I would compare the desire for Wales as the one I will always carry for Oregon. Knowing of course I’ll never live there and probably never again visit.
Gordo // March 8, 2008 at 2:14 pm
Curlews I don’t know, but gulls are another story entirely. Thank you for the transport, John. It’s greatly appreciated on this wintery day.
Linda Ball // March 8, 2008 at 2:58 pm
“Zen and the Art of Not Making a Mess” should be written. But writing is a messy business sometimes.
Jim // March 8, 2008 at 3:46 pm
I’m feeling spring coming and would love to go out for a walk but it is pouring down rain. Maybe tomorrow…
Barbara Bretton // March 8, 2008 at 6:01 pm
Once an Old Grey Poet, always an Old Grey Poet. Your gift is visible in every line, John.
maddy // March 10, 2008 at 12:50 am
As always, I love reading you John. And I’d definitely buy the book!
mrs. blogoway // March 10, 2008 at 1:36 am
My husband would love it if I would sit still and not make a mess. I just can’t help myself. I have so many ideas, and books, and projects that I seem to mess up the house so quickly. I wish I COULD empty my head. I think it would be much easier to keep the house clean.
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