Tuesday, 16 December 2008
My head is not concentrated at the moment. I feel tired and weary and thin like tissue paper, like at any moment I might tear. I have been doing too much and holding up bridges and tending to sick people with bad bad backs and babies sleepless chicken pox nights. I want to write about my journey in London and finish a story before starting another. But instead life is overlapping again, one shift and click and the focus changes. I have to take a different picture. I have been meaning to complete and my head was filled with plans: tying knots, sticking stamps, sealing packages. But I got cross this morning and grouched at my children and then felt guilty like a stone as I walked home. I went to the market and bought sweet satsumas; ' doux' soft for the children the fruit man said. He grinned at my baby and she smiled back and then the world was better. So, we went and drank coffee and had a moment of respite. It's been a day where clouds have appeared and vanished and I have felt like rain and sunshine. Christmas is coming and the goose is getting fat and I want to put a penny in the old man's hat and feel right and able. So, I'll sing a song for sixpence and fill my bed with water bottles with crochet jackets and send myself to sleep with camomile . I'll not dream of bad worms from my daughter's last night nightmare, for that worm makes little boys turn into other worms and is long and stripey and scarey as a bed. Now, a picture of a dreamcatcher bedecks the wall, letting only the good dreams filter through. The bad dreams will stay trapped in the net, disappearing with the light of day. The dreamcatcher will transform the night.