How much weirder can this world of my imagination become? After the to-ing and fro-ing of the long weekend, yesterday was for resting to embrace the silence and peace of what is currently called Home. A deep sleep rested the mind and body quite briefly, and the Full Moon Equinox energy demanded a walk before Sunrise, which was a wonderful way to use the energy and see Sun rising and Moon waning, and no humans to be seen for an hour or so, before dropping down to the village and some conversations with friends, then home for early elevensees before nine.
Writing for you, dear reader, took a while, as did sorting the bins for recycling, before settling down for reading and more writing and light lunch; after which legs demanded more walking so we set off towards the village, now thronging with human beings, not to mention the charity shops, of which we have two. The first meant a visit to see Beryl, and Andrew her son, whose delicious preserves may be found on the shelves ... a jar of orange and date chutney later, the walking continued through the village to the MS shop ... where friends were found serving, Jan and Phoebe, plus Sarah and Catrina, young mothers shopping with their babies. A stranger approached the counter with a copy of a book by Bill Bryson, erstwhile Chancellor of Durham University, and American author who fell in love with Durham when he saw the cathedral from his train. Now, the name of this Professor of Sociology I discovered and learnt to pronounce it, but to write here risks a error I have no wish to make, since Chinese, even in Latin script, is tricky for this old brain to imagine. And having accepted the invitation to come to the Retreat House to see the library, he may well read this blog. Anyway he borrowed a copy of the book written by a well known marathon runner and Professor of Social Anthropology, Mike Crawley, a good friend from years ago, the son of a dear friend sometimes referred to in previous posts of Wear & Dao, now living near Kelso in retirement, after her distinguished career as a Reader and teacher of cognitive psychology, with her PhD from Durham University, at Sunderland University ... at the mouth of the River Wear on the North Sea.
That was yesterday. This morning in the two hours between setting off to walk and returning, a slim book, The Gifts of Reading, by Robert Macfarlane, was dropped through the letter box by an anonymous person. Upon reading the inspiring book, it soon became clear, from the references to China, that the donor was my Chinese friend from yesterday!
Anyway, the Equinox went well, and the body and mind are rested. What's coming next, who knows? Saturday seems set for a protest in favour of Freedom in Newcastle, so maybe a ride on the bus at 10 will make for a day out in town. Have bus pass, will travel!
What a life ...
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