a perfect cup of tea, made by someone else, right to the end (into my hand)
waking up on a Saturday with no alarm, refreshed, and discovering that it is really quite early
arriving at the beach to run the moment the sun comes out after the rain
making an illicit diversion to the department store on the way to work and being welcomed with smiles, chocolate, fragrance samples and a hand-massage
using a pretty-and-robust umbrella on a rainy day
I take my place
in Degas,
one knee bent, to
slide my foot into pink leather.
I wish I had ribbons and a tutu.
I walk over to the barre,
stand in a line with
Pauline, Petrova and Posy,
but the self I face in the mirror,
is a grown-up woman.
My head turns into
Coppelia, a line traced
through generations.
My toes point with
Bull and Bussell,
Pavlova, and Guillem,
almost.
I plié and rise,
and I am in a
pirouette of dancing
bliss. The landing is askew;
I am alight.
‘And one and two
and three and four’
echoes all around
me and all around the
world. A hundred little girls
and companies of swans and mice
and courtiers and peasants.
Did someone just call me a
ballerina? Oh!
Dressing
Out of the bath, it’s time to get dressed. I bet you love dressing up. Whether you are a child or an adult, dressing is a great activity. Let me tell you some more about dressing.
Well first, let’s be clear that there is a continuum of dressing fun (a continuum is a wide range on an imaginary line). On one end, there’s clothes just for being covered and keeping warm. We are lucky that we have enough clothes to always wear a top and bottoms and shoes, and to keep warm. Then along the continuum we have all sorts of extra things that we can do with clothes. We can have clothes for different activities, for gardening, swimming, gymnastics, dancing, climbing mountains, even going to the moon. Then as we go further along the continuum right towards the other end we have clothes that say something. What can clothes say? I hear you ask. Well, this is something very interesting. Imagine you had two outfits, one was a plain top and jeans, and one was a top with a sunshine on and jeans. The outfit you might pick on a particular day might depend on a few things. Let’s have a think about what these clothes might say.
So, why might you pick sunshine top? Well, you might be feeling particularly happy, and want to celebrate it by wearing a sunshine. Or you might be feeling a bit sad, but then think that wearing a sunshine all day would help you to feel happier. Or you might be about to see a friend that day who’s nickname is ‘sunshine’, in which case wearing your top might be like a joke or a wink. Or you might be about to see some friends who need perking up, in which case a sunshine top might do the trick. Can you see that in each case your top is trying say something? ‘I am happy’, ‘I am hopeful of being happy’, ‘ha! I was thinking of you when I got dressed’, or ‘there is something to be happy about’.
Now this is only a very simple example. In fact there are infinite things that clothes can say (infinite means more than can ever be counted). For example, say you wanted to wear your Batman outfit. Perhaps this can say ‘I want to be like Batman, to be brave and rescue people who are in danger.’ Or you might want to wear a vet outfit. Perhaps this can say “I love animals and like practising for being a grown-up’.
One particular outfit that you will have to wear one day is what is called a school uniform. When people go to school, they often have to wear special clothes so that they look the same as each other. Now that we’ve thought of some of the things clothes can say, it might be a bit funny to think of everyone wearing the same. But there are some very clever reasons for a school uniform. The first one is to build what is called ‘esprit de corps’. This is a French phrase which means literally ‘the spirit of the body’, but sometimes it is called ‘team spirit.’ What this means is that instead of everyone all being their own individual selves, doing and wearing whatever they like, they choose to act together (like a body!). This means that they will be kind to each other, and to work towards goals that they share. You can see that in a school, this could be useful. Everyone has a common goal (learning) and wearing the uniform helps everyone to recognise that. In a way a school uniform is saying its own thing, ‘we are here to learn’. There are some other useful reasons for a school uniform. It makes it simple to get ready for school because you don’t spend time wondering what to wear. It also means that when some people have more money and some people have less money, their clothes won’t be able to say this, and so people won’t treat each other differently. You might not have thought about this, but imagine you know two friends and one has a large bag of sweets and one has a small bag of sweets. I’m guessing that you might be tempted to be nicer to the large-bag-of-sweets friend. Over time, we try to train ourselves to be kind to everyone whatever they might be able to offer us, but this takes practice.
When I think about getting dressed I like to choose something that fits how I feel, what I want to say, and what I need to do that day. I take into account whether I will be doing all the same thing, or lots of different things. If lots of different things, then I will need to choose an outfit that is more versatile.
One of my favourite things, which I am sure you will love too, is getting really dressed up for a party, in beautiful clothes. When people all decide to get dressed up in their special clothes, it is as if some magic has come along. All the girls and ladies look more beautiful, and all the boys and men look more handsome. When everyone dresses like this, it is like everyone is saying ‘the world is a beautiful place. Even if sometimes sad things happen, there is still beauty enough to cover over the sad things and help us be hopeful. Each of us has a special part to play in making the world full of joy and delight.’
So what are you going to wear today? I want to wear my new blue velvet coat, so we better plan a trip somewhere!
I am pregnant
with my own younger self.
She is waiting to be born in me,
an adult, almost forty.
I see her playing in the past,
skipping, smelling flowers.
When will she turn around
and step into her future?
I move closer,
hold my breath,
and I can hear her singing
softly to herself.
She sings the music
of the trees, the words
of butterflies,
and hums along with bees.
Held by the moment,
attention ripples
from her skin, her eyes.
She is utterly alive.
I call her name.
She looks around perplexed,
cannot see me,
scans the sky.
I call again,
regret the urgent tone.
How did that
fear get there?
And so I spread a blanket,
set out cups of tea and cake.
I read my book and let my presence
gently draw her close.
Yes, I sit and wait.
Soon,
I am going to have to pack my thirties away.
(It’s a good thing I am a neat packer.)
Large things first, wrapped in tissue,
lightly scented with nostalgia
a boyfriend
a break-up
faint spritz of –
– just what did I wear?
cards tucked into shirts and
memories of burning most of them
at the beach.
(and to be honest at home too in an
oven-proof dish I later had to throw away.)
I fold in the kite
that would not fly away
pink tail.
I tenderly lie
memories of Lucy on the bed
and gaze; how to store?
how to keep in perpetuity?
wrap in vintage lace she would
have loved, retrieve the tiny
silver heart from the cancer ward
where I took it in advance
to show her that
love goes ahead.
And round them tuck
snapshots, carrying her coffin,
loving her daughters through grief and
someone offering me a lift.
(I’d worn heels, of course I had.)
Do I let a blackness be stored there? Will its smell
permeate happier scenes?
On consideration I put a
tiny sniff of it
in an air-tight pot, in case I need to
uncork it to remind me
to treat myself gently
when I attempt the impossible.
Hmmm half-full.
It’s time to navigate
the conception of a dream.
Do I pack what is yet unfinished?
Or keep it out?
I give it a shake, see what
might fall away.
I pack a meeting, a moment,
and several encouragements
in a gold leather bag,
easily retrieved at will.
And so some of the more
cumbersome objets:
Two weeks of terror in Bali,
a surfboard and a rat,
incessant hum of air-conditioning unit
unmaintained for decades.
Pristine dawn sea and sky
breathtaking, divine;
curl them round a friendship bracelet,
a sarong never actually used.
I wish I’d got those billabong trousers
like a surf chick.
Ten birthdays in a tube,
pearl pearl pearl
loved loved loved.
Cards, presents, flowers, cake
(one year three cakes, a triumph).
Oh, I turn around and I
had forgotten that.
One evening spent
in the neonatal unit with
my friend and her husband
while her baby died
(nearly),
and several trips behind the
locked doors of the mental health unit
reassuring her
that we were still alive,
really, feel my hand, it’s not
the afterlife just yet.
I pack it with the lavender heart
I gave her to tell her
love is real
love is real
love is real
and which she happily returned.
The lavender can hold its own against the smell of death.
And now precious days,
hours, years:
Two weddings,
two nieces,
two nephews
and all packed in with the sound
of laughter, singing and tiny baby cries
and the sh sh sh
of new parents’ futile attempts
to guarantee a night’s sleep.
One pair of 3D heart glasses
one sound of string quartet
one afternoon long cuddle,
one fleeting glimpse, two,
three, fleeting fleeting all.
And now I drop in camping trips,
post break up, glorious community
weekends, packing one house,
growing another,
two piano exams and
hours of practice,
tens of running trips
hours of pilates (dog accompanied)
years in my very favourite café
squeeze squeeze in and around
every gap crammed
telephone calls without
end or size, mountain moments,
haircuts, dresses, concerts,
and I haven’t even mentioned
work!! Oh how oh how will it all fit?
Should I take
something out?
It’s too late, the lid is closing,
what’s there will stay there;
what’s not will just be
left behind.
extraplorer 