Colder and brighter, and I think I preferred yesterday’s rain. Rain sends the weather presenters into a rehearsed grump, briefed as they are to hero the tedious slab of a sunshine that’s not logically, hemispherically, ours – to pout at a downpour and fake-news themselves as living in a beach hut. Once you recognise this it’s kind of fun to observe. Still, there’s weather to be had, and that’s a whole heap of what today’s about. It’s a later start because we didn’t sleep well. B. calls me (safely) from her car to say she’s just driven past fields of lambs smiling into the sun. There was a gap in the hedge, and I know the place she means.
I’ve had to change my ringtone and increase its volume spectacularly as I just keep missing calls. The tinnitus is now stereo. The new ringtone sounds very like the playout section from Japan’s Gentlemen Take Polaroids – the title track, that is, and I now risk missing calls by listening to it and adding in my own David Sylvian humming. There’s another bit on this album – a singular incident – which sounds exactly like the doorbell at my parents’ house; so that whenever I listened to the record I’d be up and off at the same point every single time.
On Thursday we’ll say our goodbyes to a special man. An uncle who lived a quiet life but still had, and still has, a huge influence on those around him.
I often imagine one dynamic of this morning’s low, bright sunlight is to boost rogue hairs into sudden and prolific phototropic growth. I mean the unfortunate hairs that happen to men of (coughs) my age; generally and unfairly around the ear area. But I think it’s just that this kitchen mirror is bang in the worst of the light in the east – whereas, with daft irony, our bathroom mirrors skulk in a mendacious gloom. That old workplace joke – did you get dressed in the dark?
The nice or not-nice coming of Spring is marked also by the final bake of Pie Season. Positively, it’s a good bake, and both pies are up there with the best, which is a great way to bring it to an end. The key? Not over-filling. If anything, going very much under. There’s a motivational quote in here somewhere – an analogy of sorts; about not over-filling something – or maybe about leaving room. Space. In your life. I don’t know. I’m happy to leave it at that.
Before the pie on Sunday I made a first ever lino-cut print. In both acts of making – the baking and the scraping – I liked working with my hands.
Forecast is turning cloudier; rain moving in from the west overnight. It’s Tom Waits Day because of the song, Town With No Cheer. Again – another year.