I appear to have misplaced my mp3 player which is not wholly a bad thing.
I put the buds of my earphones in and I'm shielded from the world, walking among the briefcases and mobiles, I am my own isolated little ecosystem.
I write this post in my garden before I go to work, my stomach is warmed by porridge and chamomile and I have the accompaniment of sunshine and blackbirds. In the wake of my missing mp3 player my day has become about acknowledging my present. My walk to work is a reflection on my immediate surroundings and gives me space to think.
In the stagnant time where I'm, waiting for a train to arrive I'm delving into my bag to retrieve a book or ring a friend who I've not spoken to in a while. I miss the comforting tones of my music, Jack Johnson, Bob Marley, all the names that feel like comrades, but without it I feel so much more in the moment.
I'm very much having to live day by day, sometimes I wake up and I feel a small curl of hope expand within me, like there is infinite opportunity and its is palpable. Other days I arise with a lump in my throat, without explanation and have to swallow back the tears. I know I'm not quite all right but dam it I'm getting there.
The help of friends and the relentless listening from family is helping my unfurl out of the knot I got myself in, of wanting to be perfect and strong for everyone but myself. Naturally writing this blog helps infinitely, I find my balance again.
I want to tell you a story.
On a rare weekend when Antonio and I were both off together we decided to explore our home city of Birmingham. Along the canals of Brindley Place we came across an old man selling rag rugs from his narrow boat. A simple question of me asking him if I could take a photo lead to a half hour conversation where he told me all about his life afloat. He showed me the intricate designs of making rag rugs and the method in which he did it. I plucked up the courage to admit I wanted to live on a narrow boat and he happily answered all my questions. It was such a small thread in the tapestry of a day but I derived so much solace from it.
The encounter led me to search for narrow boats for sale and I came across a beautiful 38ft boat lovingly restored by a grandmother. Something amazing has happened, somehow over the medium of email me and this lady have built up real rapport, a common hope for both of us to accomplish our dreams. She is a live aboard hoping to upscale and I'm a landlocked surfer hoping to create my own water adventure in the means available to me.
Tomorrow I'm going to view the boat and see if it really is the one for me.
And so I linger in that space between waiting to make a decision and making a decision.
If I like this boat do I take the risk and buy it? Will I cope living on a boat? How do I feel about inheriting the debt of a loan to afford it? Does it suit my lifestyle?
My head is a broth of questions and presently I feel numb to make any kind of concrete decision.
What I do repeatedly imagine is being sat on my narrow boat drinking a cup of tea, inhaling the air around me and looking out for the wildlife of the canal side.
What do you think? Your words of advice are greatly appreciated do I take the risk and invest in a boat or do I stay poised ready in the moment for something else....
A week in pictures...
I put the buds of my earphones in and I'm shielded from the world, walking among the briefcases and mobiles, I am my own isolated little ecosystem.
I write this post in my garden before I go to work, my stomach is warmed by porridge and chamomile and I have the accompaniment of sunshine and blackbirds. In the wake of my missing mp3 player my day has become about acknowledging my present. My walk to work is a reflection on my immediate surroundings and gives me space to think.
In the stagnant time where I'm, waiting for a train to arrive I'm delving into my bag to retrieve a book or ring a friend who I've not spoken to in a while. I miss the comforting tones of my music, Jack Johnson, Bob Marley, all the names that feel like comrades, but without it I feel so much more in the moment.
I'm very much having to live day by day, sometimes I wake up and I feel a small curl of hope expand within me, like there is infinite opportunity and its is palpable. Other days I arise with a lump in my throat, without explanation and have to swallow back the tears. I know I'm not quite all right but dam it I'm getting there.
The help of friends and the relentless listening from family is helping my unfurl out of the knot I got myself in, of wanting to be perfect and strong for everyone but myself. Naturally writing this blog helps infinitely, I find my balance again.
I want to tell you a story.
On a rare weekend when Antonio and I were both off together we decided to explore our home city of Birmingham. Along the canals of Brindley Place we came across an old man selling rag rugs from his narrow boat. A simple question of me asking him if I could take a photo lead to a half hour conversation where he told me all about his life afloat. He showed me the intricate designs of making rag rugs and the method in which he did it. I plucked up the courage to admit I wanted to live on a narrow boat and he happily answered all my questions. It was such a small thread in the tapestry of a day but I derived so much solace from it.
The encounter led me to search for narrow boats for sale and I came across a beautiful 38ft boat lovingly restored by a grandmother. Something amazing has happened, somehow over the medium of email me and this lady have built up real rapport, a common hope for both of us to accomplish our dreams. She is a live aboard hoping to upscale and I'm a landlocked surfer hoping to create my own water adventure in the means available to me.
Tomorrow I'm going to view the boat and see if it really is the one for me.
And so I linger in that space between waiting to make a decision and making a decision.
If I like this boat do I take the risk and buy it? Will I cope living on a boat? How do I feel about inheriting the debt of a loan to afford it? Does it suit my lifestyle?
My head is a broth of questions and presently I feel numb to make any kind of concrete decision.
What I do repeatedly imagine is being sat on my narrow boat drinking a cup of tea, inhaling the air around me and looking out for the wildlife of the canal side.
What do you think? Your words of advice are greatly appreciated do I take the risk and invest in a boat or do I stay poised ready in the moment for something else....
A week in pictures...
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| Jasmine tea at the Kinaree Thai Restaurant, Birmingham. |
 |
| Edgbaston Reservoir - beauty in the city. |
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| Above & Below Scenes from Birmingham! |
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| Rag rugs and narrow boat apparel. |
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| 3am musings. |
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| Date night at our beloved Cafe Soya. |
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| You must need to be slightly crazy to date me! |
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| A thoughtful gift from my man fellow. |
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| And so it begins.... |
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| My heart. |
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