smell of petrol

Smell of petrol and sea air;
a scrappy dirt-grey rubber dinghy
purchased by my father, secretly,
wildly overdrawn, while at home
our empty cupboards were
filled by kind friends.
Falling off backwards into
barely choppy seas,
hemmed in by boats of plenty.
Three children, bobbing about in
in buoyancy aids, our very
own, wild with
unfettered delight.
Utter freedom,
Shrieks of laughter.
Wild, alive, free.

(If my mother had had her way,
we would have been playing
in the back garden.)

things I want to tell my children but might forget – on the train.

Oh, look the train is moving!  It is funny because what often happens is that it looks as if the platform is moving while the train stays still.  But this is an optical illusion.  If we have already got a seat (hopefully together), we can relax and enjoy the train experience.

There are many aspects of train journeys which are interesting.  The first thing is that it takes a while to settle into the new space.  Sometimes I change seats several times, or find I need things from my suitcase which I have to get down from the luggage rack.  Sometimes I find the people around me are too noisy, or eating stinky food, or sometimes (if they are about two years old) screeching.  If we are together, we will need to avoid these things so that we don’t upset other people.  It can be hard to play quietly for a whole journey, but we will try.  Once we have settled into our seats, we might play a game, like ‘I spy’ or we might eat our picnic.  What would you like for your picnic?  I would like ham and cheese baguette with a few ready salted crisps and a raspberry jelly.  Then I would like an oatmeal and raisin cookie (a bit later on) and a piece of chocolate with a cup of tea.  Yum!  Picnics are the best.

Now probably you will want to watch a little video.  In the days when I was a little girl, you could not watch a video on a train.  You could read a book or do a crossword puzzle or look out of the window.  When I was small like you, I only went on a train two or three times.  When I went on a train, I just used to look at everything because it was so different to normal.  I don’t know yet whether we will go on trains a lot or a little, but I hope we will go on them quite often.  Did you know that your great great grandfather used to work on the railways, and when your grandmother went to visit, she used to play in their garden where trains went right past the garden gate?  In those days trains were propelled by steam, so they were very dirty and noisy.  The trains that we will travel on are much cleaner and quieter.

Sometimes on a train people don’t talk very much.  Maybe they are doing their work or reading their book.  But sometimes people get involved in conversations.  This is more common if the train is travelling between two small places in the countryside than if it is going between bigger places and London.  It is often fun to talk to people on trains because you can discover new things.  But it is also important to work out when a person no longer wants to talk to you.  The signs of this are that they look at their book or work more, or they look out of the window, or at their watch, or they leave long pauses in the conversation.  If this happens, just let the conversation fade and turn to another activity that you have brought with you.

Maybe then it is time for a trip to the buffet car!  This is like a tiny café on the train.  Sometimes there is even a chef preparing food.  The people behind the buffet have to make everything in a very small space.  Sometimes they are cheerful and sometimes they are grumpy.  It is a great thing to have a buffet car so you should always be nice and friendly to the person, even if they are a bit grumpy to you.

Every part of a train journey is special.  The start is fun because you can feel the feeling of embarking on an adventure.  But in a way the middle is even more fun because you are in a special space – miles from home but not yet near your destination – where it feels like anything could happen.  Then nearing the destination is also fun because it you get the feeling of something ending and beginning at the same time, which is a funny mixture of feelings inside.

When you arrive at the destination, it is very important to check that you have got all your belongings with you.  It is very easy to forget something so it is worth checking twice.  Pay particular attention to umbrellas, hats and scarves which are the easiest things to lose.

I hope you will love train journeys as much as I do.

This train terminates here. (That’s what they say on trains).

let me count the ways…. I love coming home

So my last business trip of the year is complete and after the four and a half hour commute, I have just turned my key in the lock and opened my front door to the joys of coming home.

And here they are:

A few moments of reshelving favourite books, boxing up adaptor plugs, sliding pairs of shoes into their familiar hidey holes, and walking in my mother’s homecoming footsteps of ‘getting the washing on  the go”.

The particular hum of household appliances, the faint squeal of lightbulbs turned down on the dimmer, the strike of a match put to the gas fire tiled with fragments of my great grandmothers china and pebbles from my favourite seaside, the familiar rhythms of the boiler.  A symphony.

Settling straight into the routines of my home neighbourhood – tomorrow is recycling collection, so it’s back to me to take it out (my kind neighbour does this when I’m away).

Conscientiously watering plants before they die of neglect.

Warming up cherished cold corners, scented candle on the hearth, hot-water bottles in the bed, scented oils in the bathroom, a spread of chords on the too-silent piano.

Friendly things to eat – favourite tea tonight and tomorrow the prospect of my beloved favourite breakfast.

The smell of laundry.

Everywhere treasure: favourite cards, tea lights, cushions, books, mugs, chair, pillows, cosy clothes.

Catching up with connection, responding, calling, delaying, writing.  Being available to my friends and family again after days of intense focus.

Pink (seemingly outlawed from any business hotel I’ve stayed at in the last several years).

Prettyness – in delicate colours, in intricate textures, in contrast, in details, in scent, in light.

Storing my suitcase and turning back into someone who lives in their house, and who does not drag their possessions with them everywhere like a maladapted snail.

‘Pottering’; a mundane but beloved verb that rarely occurs away from home.

Presence, to myself, to my life, to now.

And thankfulness; what riches.

Ispahan macaroon, Galeries Lafayette, Paris

Ispahan.

Perfect circles of
infinite air;
meringue.

Raspberries, picked at dawn,
glistening with dew,
by the hand of a young
maiden, remembering her lover
in a far away land.

Cloud of fresh cream
hand-speckled with lychee
released heady and trembling
with delight from
spiky shells.

Tinted with rose
reminiscent of childhood perfumeries

Slowly it slipped
from the fork
and all the way down to my heart,
now crying
with the bliss.

Ispahan.

Note: Written on location in Paris at the Pierre Hermé boutique.

five luxuries

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