Monday 2nd January 2012


About to stick my nose gingerly out of the door like a mouse heading for a crumb of cheese and head to the sea and down comes the ever reliable Cornish rain. I emptied the fire ash tray and came back in and my little friend the wren was flying around. I know I am being anthropomorphic when I say that s/he seemed familiar with the surroundings, flying around quite happily, looking at things and not banging her/is beak headlong into the huge windows here. S/he hopped along the ledge as if to say, I know about this, its a window of glass, I can't fly through it and I'm not going to hurt myself again. After a few minutes I opened the patio door and left it open and after a few seconds she gently made her escape. I was trying to talk sweetly to the wren as they are such exquisite little creatures who seem happy and full of  joy simply to hop around and be alive. How wonderful!


Genevieve came to dump garbage and I called down to say sorry about the fire and ask about Stephen. He is ok but in shock and staying I think in the pole house. She said to go and say hello. But to be honest there are so many little buildings up there I'm not sure which. Garbage  men came soon after. I couldn't help noticing what good solid men they looked. They  had to park awkwardly again because the neighbours can't think past themselves to realize that other people need to both access the road and the garbage bins. The American woman would probably take it as an insult if I asked her to get the car parked just a few feet further along. Same problem with getting fire engines down the lane, she seems to deliberately block things so that nothing can get through. Either this is extreme vulnerability and defensiveness or complete stupidity. How to communicate without offending? Her x Theo, seems to drive the car most of the time. He has been here since Dec 24th and I know that if I asked him, he would totally understand. Don't know if Jesse would. 


I  know who I would prefer to be around in any kind of emergency and it is definately those
chunky looking dustbin men. For once in  my life I am not hurtling over and telling them off. She made quite an impression on me when she said I was judgmental. I think I am  more critical but certainly something to think about. What do you do?


I got down to some work on Section Four of what I am calling 'Quincunx' as a working title. I am trying to be totally honest about my experiences of when my Mother died but attempting to put it into a novel, semi auto thing and change  names and situations and so on. Don't know if this is just escaping the tag memoir or not. If I mention incidents with the family I can say it was made up and I can say it is my experience and opinion but not necessarily true. I want it to have  a few exposed bones in it.


The rain has stopped and it looks quite bright up on the hill. I have to get out. I listened to a talk by and about Stephen Hawking on the radio. He said he needed a loving family as much as physics. I do too but don't. I felt a flashing loving moment and wanted to phone up my sister and tell her I love her and shall we try and spend next Christmas together. But I  know it is probably not on. Cathy is coming soon with her two kids. I wonder if she will see John,  my eldest brother. What I would love is for us all to have a reunion. I want to talk to them about it, I am a bit scared though of yet more rejection but at least I will do it in the right spirit. Am I deluded that our family can ever get together and be loving? But then the intention is all. I will try my best. I am sure everyone would feel a lot better or am I just being selfish?


Then PJ O'Rourke said on a Radio 4 BBC broadcast, that 'Romney has the personality of a turnip.' Which made me laugh a lot.