Over the past few months, I’ve learnt to say yes to the right people and circumstances and equally no with the rest. Thus, I have experienced some brilliant places and people.
Last week I joined a group of people on a “Poetree” walk in Offton Middle wood. Amongst some that I knew and some that I didn’t, it soon became clear that we were all going to get on, and were all there for the same reason - the connection. After a miles walk along the road and field edges, we finally reached the wood. A woodland verse was handed to me to be read, which I did without question. Not wanting to waste a moment, i fell into the beautiful greenery unfolding before me, it’s roots connecting to mine as I entered. The rush, no words can describe. Filling each of my chakras, first my heart punched with a burst of adrenaline, next my stomach, butterflies slowly waking and spreading their wings, and finally, my head… Filling with every sense running through me, overflowing to the point of dizziness, my arm reaches out to the nearest tree, as I steady myself, and I smile.
On Sunday, by invitation I attended a step dancing entertainment afternoon… I had no idea what I had agreed to, however on arrival it became clear what direction to afternoon would take. A marquee set in the beer garden, we entered the ‘Worlingworth Swan’ for hydration before settling in front of the small stage set up inside the tent. Seeing the wooden beams inside the pub, and the furrowed brows of the flat capped chaps as they detected strangers, I knew I was going to have fun here.
Soon the dancing began, and after a while of studying the faces of those watching, I decided to sit outside to sketch the exterior of the pub. Around me I could feel the eyes piercing into me like lasers from every angle, and I smiled to myself. The performance I was creating intrigued these people more than what was happening inside the marquee, totally absorbed in what I was doing, and yet completely aware of everything happening around me… Of course the first brave enough to “come and have a peep” were a few children, completely in awe of what I was doing. Soon followed a mum, a Spanish woman named Goretti. Full of questions and interest, I explained to her that once sketched, I would paint with Guinness, to create a sepia wash. Often a raised eyebrow returned at this statement, instead I was welcomed with a glowing face of wonder and intrigue. After giving Goretti a card of my details, I continued working on the drawing, feeling content to have connected with another while working.
My favoured place to write, in particular blog posts, is on the bus to my sisters. For one hour and ten minutes, I fill what would be empty travelling time, with thoughts and words. A rural journey between Ipswich and Eye, and Eye and Ipswich. Now on the second part of the journey, I’m on my way home from spending time with my sister, niece and nephew. However today, my sister was also looking after her friends little girl. I can safely say that the past few hours have been the best form of contraception… Listening to this child screech, question, criticise, I did my best to not let this ruin my time with my precious family.
Whenever I venture out to this part of the county, something inside me alters, I feel a longing for the countryside; almost homesick, but in a sentimentally pleasant way.
While typing this on the bus, there are 7 people scattered around me. I have headphones in so to absorb what I am doing. 1 of 3 men behind me is talking particularly loudly to a woman closer to the front of the bus than the back, and is therefore interrupting everybody else on the bus. I wonder what in these peoples minds leads them believe that this is how to behave socially?
For the past 2 weeks I have been thinking about a 500 word essay that I am required to write to mark the beginning of a new module at uni. A “learning agreement”, stating what I intend to do for the next 6 months, the journey I intend to take and how I intend to get there. In the context of this blog, writing comes completely naturally, however when I am told to write something, blank. I’ve scribbled odd notes onto scraps of paper, however I struggle to form these into structured sentences. After 20 years in education you’d think it’d be more natural now?!
Alas, for the rest of this pleasant and oddly intrusive bus journey, I will attempt to write 500 words of what and why.
