The Long Walk Home

Today the sky is doing this:

So I did this: Blue Skies, enjoy.

Bruce Willis: air brushed Bruce or Bruce with no hair and beard? A tricky question. Which view of reality do we prefer? Bruce with no hair and a beard apparently. Nothing much is really added to the ‘ooo do we want reality or escape from reality?’ genre.

A couple of weeks ago our fridge broke, being enslaved to the genius system of a letting agency who can only pass messages on to the Landlord, who appears to be out of the country for most of his life, we still haven’t got our fridge fixed. Leaving aside the mildly annoying state of not being able to store food for more than one day there is the more important realisation that I need to get milk every day. I need my evening cups of tea and my morning cup of tea. No longer do I live with the ease of opening the fridge and there being my milk, my pathway to joy. (ahem).

Recently I’ve become obsessed with one day at a time living. Remembering that today is the day I am called to remember my Maker. Today is the day to encourage the people around me to remember we are creatures in the hands of a very good Creator. Today is the day I live in. I worry and I look forward to and I ache for the future (especially the one beyond the 19th December :)) but in all of that I am only here Today. Weirdly buying the milk each day reminds me of that. I can’t store it up, I can’t plan to use it the next day, it will have gone off. Today I need to buy it and use it. Today is the day to buy milk, we shall drink tea and be glad in it. (or some similar phrase… alsoseeexodusandmannaforeactualdependanceongodforeverythingliving)

Driving into Brighton, sky awash with light from the sun disappearing over the horizon. Walking through the lanes, meandering around the lit up Pavillion, crescent moon framed through elegant trees. Conversation, the dance of the unknown, skimming through the surface wondering which depths are allowed to be touched. The band, loud bright colour, faces that love this vibrant joy. Horns, drum beat and dropped in bass making my feet and body move. Room full of people dancing, those that care too much urgently glancing around to see if they are doing it right, those that don’t care at all flailing around in the breeze of noise. Smiles, nods, familar grins, squeezes on shoulders to make sure everyone is having  a good time.

Sunny morning cycling along the seafront, sparkling waters, blue blue skies and the chill in the air of the dying summer and rising autumn. 

Coffee shop, wooden tables, layered coffee: brown to beige to white foam.  Sunshine spilling through the windows. Realising I can talk, interact, ask questions and more. Smiling ruefully at all the random thoughts swirling around my head. Sensing the fragility of love in this world. Bittersweet sense of failure and the hope of redemption all at once.

My new favourite cafe

Independent, lovely and great coffee. Oh to be a staff worker again and I could frequent it all day long.

Most enjoyed blog of the week

Some vindication for the English obsession with talking about the weather

Must buy now cd of the week. (oops.)