lundi, le 21 décembre 2009
I spent much more time with My Witty Friend than I originally thought I would. I thought I’d go down for a week or two. Alas, seven weeks later, The Princess and I made our way back home again.
I didn’t blog because I didn’t want to. I told blog stories in my head every day. I didn’t blog because I didn’t really have the time and because I was confronted with experiences and emotions that I needed to internalise, to sift through and to make my own before I could share them.
And then, when I was on my way home, L’homme, with his usual inimitable timing, upset my entire little apple cart. I am truly aghast at this man’s total lack of compassion, of caring, his boundless stupidity. With one phone call he eradicated all the kindness and tenderness and forgiveness I had honed towards him. And he replaced it with anger.
I can’t unreservedly say that I am pleased to be back in the city where I live, but I am pleased to slowly but surely find my rhythm again.
Having booked a trip to my beloved Paris helps me to deal with my anger towards L’homme and is a good incentive to get the rhythm going.
(Some music musings: Driving down to My Witty Friend, I couldn’t get my iPod to work. Thankfully I had grabbed all of about three CD’s as I flew out the door. I spent hours listening to the obligatory ’Sympathique' and to Dylan’s Together Through Life. Many a day when The Princess and I walked along the beautiful mountain paths, the opening lines of one of my favourite ditzy songs on this CD, found their way into my head:
I get the blues for you baby when I look up at the sun
I get the blues for you baby when I look up at the sun
Come back here, we can have some real fun
Well it’s early in the evening and everything is still
Well it’s early in the evening and everything is still
One more time, I’m walking up on heartbreak hill
~Bob Dylan : Shake shake mama
(The story in the photograph: The Princess is dumbfounded that grass can grow so tall in just over seven weeks. She’s wondering whether she possibly shrunk!)
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