ROCKING HORSE! in bold and punctuated to convey my elation at waking in the early hours with these words on my lips….remembering in my sleep what I’d been searching my brain filing system for, of and on for two weeks or more. I would have liked to say them out loud, very loudly in fact and woken people up to celebrate with me, but reined it in and hoped the words would still be there in the morning so I could Substack them. Do you have this? When something suddenly is remembered out of the blue? Sadly I have no clue as to why or what conversation this stemmed from, it happens with monotonous regularity now and I accept the weird way a brain evolves with holes, gaps and spaces as we get older. Other things are sharp and clear, the colours of my first party dress (tangerine and white), my best friend at Benson Rd school (Gail Devonshire) and the moment I fell in love with all things French (first school exchange) to name but a few. I’m glad I remembered rocking horse, perhaps more of the pieces will come back and I can share the joy… with whom…no idea.
My friend and I met yesterday for coffee at Carluccio’s. She is a person I laugh with, a lot. We worked together years ago and there was an instant connection, a strong friendship developed which has survived despite a break in the middle somewhere when our lives took different directions. We’re back to living quite near to one another again and try to meet up regularly. It’s a tonic. A beautiful blue sky sunshiney day, bitterly cold but our café is warm and we have a window table. We talk, some of our conversation is punctuated by an absence of words, names of things, people, but mostly we laugh. It’s extremely beneficial, for mind and body, to have at least one person in your life who brings this to the table. We do it for each other. It works and both of us come away feeling the better for it and it really doesn’t matter about the unremembered bits. In fact they make us laugh more. After two drinks and cake, of course, we’re ready to take our canalside walk.
A stroll to the river and the seagulls are standing on the frozen surface, it’s very very cold. Her hip and knees are giving out, my chest hurts and I am terribly cold. We don’t walk too far, it’s beautiful but it’s clearly a struggle for her and my teeth are not far off chattering. I’m wrapped up, several layers, but forgot my gloves and scarf. I have a thick wool roll neck on which I’ve turned up. It’s not enough. How strange it is to observe the changes in our disposition and recognise that our best efforts can’t change the reality we’re living. We’re not old, but we’re older and bodies and minds suffer wear. Ours are showing us this in no uncertain terms. I see teenage school kids in blazers - no coats or scarves or hats. They are fine and I feel exasperated, I used to be them. There is the slightest tinge of envy which I try to suppress and comfort myself with ‘but I am wise now…’ which comforts not at all.
There is a guy sitting on the pavement with a cap in front of him and a few brown coins. I stop, we both search for something to give him, I cannot bear to think of him sleeping rough. Neither of us has much change because we rarely use real money these days, paying always with phones or cards. The world changes in subtle ways that hurt us without our ever realising just what we’ve lost, until it’s too late. We chat with him and he tells us he thinks he has a broken rib, I can sympathise because my own is giving me some issues. He’s grateful I think for the chat and even our offered paltry coins. I mean to make a point of drawing some cash out each week - this isn’t the answer to the homeless crisis, I don’t have that, but it may help a single individual in a cold hard place to feel better. Making a difference starts small and with one, I must remember to do it.
I realise, as we walk away wrapped up in good quality clothes, I wouldn’t last 5 minutes in his situation. Ice baths or no ice baths, I’m not feeling the cold as my friend today. We’re walking back to our cars now, we’ve had a solid 4 hour session of talking and laughing together. A strong hug and we go our separate ways, promising to do it again and soon. My car is parked in sunshine and I’m grateful for the warmth to drive home. A revelation, I understand now why some older people go to warmer countries for the first 4 months of the year. It’s making good sense to me now although I don’t think I’ll ever join their numbers, any previous scorn of mine is withdrawn. My bones would thank me.
Back home I keep my coat and hat on indoors until I feel thawed. Making a fish pie, I think of the man on the pavement. I feel the luxury of the ingredients I’m using, beautiful smoked haddock, salmon, cod, prawns, fresh parsley, capers, creamy velouté and lush mashed potato. It feels almost holy to be in this kitchen, warm and taking my time over the preparation process. This is comfort food and I know both of us (BB and I) need it, but not half as much as the man on the street…I lay a fire in the grate and the table for dinner. There is a strong sense of gratitude behind everything tonight, but especially for home. This sanctuary which offers peace, safety and comfort. For friendship, the difference it makes to have someone who travels the road with me, who laughs with me at our nose hair, whiskers and age spots. We still do our make up…. For a life which isn’t perfect, has moments of real fear and times of great boldness.
As I take myself to bed, having watched a last, late YouTube with @sandrasalin (an 83 year old who loves makeup) and feeling her wonderful, forgetful energy, little did I know that this day would be topped off (cherry on top) with a rocking horse moment. I’d sat with the embers of the fire settling to a glow. BB has long since gone up. I wanted the day to go on a bit longer, see it out. Life is full of surprises, even when we’re asleep it’s all going on, we’ve just got our eyes closed. And here we are with another one, another day, grateful doesn’t cut it. Baby, it’s cold outside. Till the next time,
A