Neighbourly Love

When I'm not gazing at the beautiful landscape here I am dragged down to the human realm and
have 'stuff' thrown in my face when I try to be friends with my nearest neighbour, an american academic, whose area is 'Musicology' which apprently translates to Opera Studies and when you try to talk about it the main focus seems to be on 'Gender.' I get tired of hearing the term 'Older Woman' and refuse to be pulled into that kind of bonding of 'us older women' must stick together. I refuse to be called an Older Woman. I hate the term. Older than what or who, older than a baby? I don't consider myself old, I am fit, I play tennis, I hike, I have a couple of extra pounds I would like to get rid of. I get tired of the conspiracy theories,  the victim mentality, the poor old me and all my illnesses. However I do my best to help. I find someone to bring my neighbour wood. I offer to show her some of the hidden pathways, when I mention I am trained as a massage practitioner immediately I am requested to attend her. I feel when I show or give anything it is gobbled up straight away.

We are walking along an ancient pathway, my companion constantly asks questions like a staccato and I cannot get into the rhythm of the land and the walk, all the attention has to go to her. I am supposed to know every name of every landmark, road name, where everything is, it is all on the map in any case. It was a beautiful day, sunny, clouds coming and going and a real change from my awful struggle home from St Buryan yesterday when there was an haranguing south westerly wind constantly blowing against me and then rain slashing my face. I was like a drowned rat when I got home. This lady my neighbour who seems to need a lot of help constantly takes taxis, she cannot be bothered to let me know when and where so we cannot share. I am sick of this narcissism, selfishness. We are on the path to the sea beyond Treen and she goes into one making comments like 'since you're not receptive to what I'm saying.' I hate that kind of bitchy comment. This woman has no right on earth to talk to me like she even hardly knows me. When I try to respond she totally ignores me and does not even look but demands constant attention with her non stop questions.


She swears at me. That is the last straw and I swear back. I am carrying some eggs for her in a box from a roadside stall here. She goes off in a huff. I yell 'don't you want your eggs?' She mumbles some stupid remark and I say 'Fuck you too.' She has drawn me down into her world and I have capitulated and gone into a bit reaction. I am deflated, disappointed and feel low. But I continue on my way and reach Penberth and the sea. I walk up over the river Penberth, along the river and go and see my friend Jaqueline Chapple. Since my neigh our does not want the eggs, I give them away. We have tea and have a jolly chat about tennis, politics, government a real conversation where we listen to each other and respond. This is rare indeed. I hardly know anyone who is capable anymore of this kind of interaction. We are all so stuck on our track. But it is so refreshing and soon we are animated, smiling and invigorated. Sometimes her beloved husband wouldn't listen to her, she says because he thought she would always be right, win. So obviously this is a cross gender problem, that is communication. But what a huge difference after my previous foray into trying to interact with a neighbour. I am sick of all the usual excuses though I am sorry if someone is ill. But not too sorry when that person is contaminating and polluting themselves with cigarettes.

I walk back to the road, up to Trethewewy and down to Crean. Before we left for our awful walk a buzzard flew past and I would always see that as a good sign. She thought it was a bad one. It's always a bad one to her. If you go for walks with me you will see a lot of Police around she says. I am being stalked she says, conspiracy goes after conspiracy. If I am being shown that I am critical, I so get the message. It was a wondrous day in the end. Tomorrow the eclipse, only a couple of weeks till the Winter Solstice.