My feet were freezing.
Man of the woods prefers to sleep with the bedroom windows open, not merely ajar but as open as they will go and the windier the weather, the better. A gale was practically lifting the duvet two nights ago.
He’d long gone, dressed and down to the kitchen to make the first teas (I have one milky tea with no sugar, and he likes three coffees with two spoon-fulls of coffee powder in each mug).
‘Now, where was I?’ I ask my semi-waking conscience. I’m in that phase where it’s not too late to drift back into that peculiar room in which sat a man with a white shirt with rolled up sleeves, an expensive watch around a tanned wrist on which dark hairs obeyed their master by growing in the same direction… why am I standing behind him, looking over his shoulder at the item in his fingers? Damn it, I want to see his face. Is it Bond in a dark plot twist? Is it one of those middle-aged good looking models used by Patek Philippe? OMG, he’s getting up..
‘Hey! Don’t leave. It was just getting interesting. Hello? Can you hear me? Oooh close that door behind you – it’s so windy in here.’
I move to sit on the same chair and the dimly lit room somehow has the table under a spotlight. The item he left on the table is still there. This is great as usually in dreams what you thought might exist to view in fact drifts away on a thread of memory, but here I can look over the edge of a container and deep into the contents. It’s like the most precious jewel…
I am aware of breathing. Is he back? Will he want to sit down again where I am now?
‘Don’t let it get cold.’
Today I would like to assure Matsu that I am doing some housework and I shall start in the bedroom.
The summer duvet which is not much thicker than a tablecloth may be fine for MoW – whose body temperature runs about four degrees higher than mine – but I’m making a stand.
I’ve located my Nora Batty socks, my winter PJs and I need more covers for the bed. I delighted in discovering an old set of curtains in the spare bedroom – y’know the spare bedroom – the one acting as storage facility to all those items you’re one day going to ‘deal with’ ?
The weight across my body creates a slumber like no other and I slept for 10 uninterrupted hours last night following an amazing trip to an air show, at which I became emotional when the Merlin engines growled their way across the sky wearing their iconic outfits of a spitfire and a hurricane. Their big sister was not allowed in the sky due to a crosswind so instead we were treated to a dogfight and it was fudging amazing.
Man of the woods couldn’t come to the coast to watch the mighty machines as he was at home driving one himself, planting next year’s Rape Seed Oil crop before the storm delivers much-needed rain to the land.
Meanwhile I continue to dream about my feedback from the New Writer’s Scheme. It surely won’t be long now. We are told to chase the organiser after six weeks, and we are edging towards five.
I’m excited about my clutter-free bedroom and I’d love to know about a clutter-clearing experience you guys may have had recently?
Where did you clear?
What did the space become?
How did it make you feel?
Have a lovely weekend wherever you are xx