Shades of Grey

So, how is your summer so far? If, like me, you live in northern Europe, you may feel a little cheated, apt to complain or demand your money back. Me too. After a long, bitter winter, following on from a wet, almost non-existent summer last year, this year's spring and summer have been a bit of a bad joke.

 

But, complaining achieves nothing. There are forces out there we just don't (yet?) seem to have the technology to deal with. No point in bashing your head against a brick wall. The weather, it seems, just ain't gonna change. So, try another tack... How can I enjoy it anyway? Well, here in Wales, close to the beautiful west coast, and surrounded by glorious green mountains, I am learning a new technique. One defining feature of my personality is that I love the open air. Another is that I am incurably a 'colours' person. Sadly, I love warmth too, but let's just put that one on one side for the time being...

 

Open air - well, it's still out there! It's just a tad chilly and I feel the cold quite badly. Solution: instead of wearing winter clothes and feeling cold (as I do for most of the winter), I can wear my winter clothes and feel warm. After all, it's summer! Moving here has been an experience, although the bad summer doesn't seem to be limited to Wales.

 

Last week, in our attempt to explore the local community and what it has to offer, we had a night out at a recently completed chapel conversion. The new community hall offered us a first-rate night out, with a chamber quintet all the way from England and some wonderful local musicians, together with tea and biscuits in the interval and some of the friendliest local people you could wish to meet. Coming down from the tiny gallery still incorporated into this wonderful converted chapel building, I noticed that the locals are well equipped this year to survive our novel summer weather. Sun-dresses? Strappy tops? Flimsy summer sandals to celebrate this special night out? Not a bit of it! One elderly lady struck me as particularly sensible and well-adapted - a smart outfit as befitted the occasion, but topped with a woolly hat! I'm still on a learning curve myself, but in our entrance hall at home hang a selection of summer and winter attire, a sunhat (for optimistic days) and a brown woolly hat which I don for brisk, blustery walks along the seafront. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em!

 

Colour? Well, the mountains are still a glorious green, the sheep are still gleaming white, especially the newly shorn, shivering ones, but the sky is often grey and the hills are sometimes shrouded with grey mist, upsetting my natural colour sense which is more adapted for the Mediterranean. As for the sea, I am learning to appreciate a whole new colour range -  misty grey, light grey, deep-dark-depressing grey, grey-black, grey-blue, grey-green, blue-grey and just plain, unadulterated grey. In the end it drove me to poetry. Well, what else can you do, sitting in the car in the drizzle, with a thermos of hot coffee on a summer's afternoon...?

                                           So Many Shades of Grey 

                                                Grey blue sea

                                                Calling me
                                                Blue grey sky
                                                Flying high
                                               Grey brown stones
                                               No-one owns
                                               Yellowish grey
                                               Sand-filled spray
                                               Greyish blue
                                               Distant view
                                               Greyish green
                                               Hills between
                                               In the rain
                                               Grey again
                                               Shades of grey
                                               Glorious day!

 

 

Not the best of poetry, but it made me feel better. You should try it sometime.

 

 

 

Lights Out

I glanced across at him, noting his kindly face and gentle smile, reserved, not pushing himself forward but attentive to his wife’s conversation, and reminding me suddenly of a friend. In former times my friend was just such a man as this, with a lively sense of fun, a zest for living and a lot of wisdom about our time on earth, how to enjoy the moment and seize the day. Sadly, at this present time, my friend is a shadow of his former self, immersed in a deep depression, inattentive to his wife’s grief, and unaware of the joys and possibilities of the present moment.

 

We moved on from the cafe, strolled through pleasant gardens and seated ourselves on a bench to enjoy the view. Again, my attention was drawn to my companions in this lovely setting, a couple enjoying the gardens, him on foot, her in a wheelchair, pointing out flowers in the border that took her fancy, as he pushed her along the grass. As they passed us she greeted us cheerfully, a smile on her face, and we exchanged joyful appreciation of the lovely garden and the warm summer weather. She was enjoying herself, despite her obvious disabilities – enjoying the sunshine, the flowers, the fresh air and her husband’s company.

And my friend? He enjoys nothing. He may recover. I hope for his sake and for his family that he does. I hope at some point the mists will clear and he will see life clearly again, as it is, full of light and shade, good and bad, but for all its trials, worth living and offering hope and possibilities. Like the lady in the wheelchair, he will be able to enjoy at least his partial good fortune and the good things in his life. A physical sickness, a deformity, a sensory limitation, or a disability is a sad thing, limiting our enjoyment. But a depression is a terrible affliction, turning out the light and wiping the memory clean that once knew how to turn it on again.

What Colour is Your Toothpaste?

My toothpaste is turquoise – it used to have blue and white stripes. I quite like turquoise but it’s different. Turquoise is gentle, whimsical and imaginative. Blue and white stripes make you feel alert and vibrant and set you up for a positive day’s activity.

In my kitchen I fry the onions to a pale golden colour. My left arm reaches out for the handle of the wall cupboard to my left. What I am searching for isn’t there. Why not? Wrong kitchen. Wrong cupboard. Another life. My instinctive reaching out for what I need used to result in gratification – the herbs or spices I needed next, the cheese grater or the sieve. Now it’s all wrong. I must engage my brain and reject my body’s natural impulses.

In the bedroom – well, surely bodily impulses must rule there! But no, in the night I wake and direct my gaze towards the illuminated, red numbers of the radio alarm. Is it nearly morning? Should I stir and make a cup of tea? Or is it merely another waking phase at 3 a.m. in my current, rather annoying and restless sleep patterns? But the answer is delayed. My brain turns the problem over slowly, painfully and  finally arrives at the answer. Since yesterday the bed has been raised a foot, from its earlier state as a makeshift mattress on the floor to the superior position of a real bed with a wooden frame, a headboard and a footboard to bump your shins on as you round the foot of the bed. More change. The new wardrobes have been erected and are very beautiful and the bed can now take up its permanent position. The carpentry workshop has been transformed into a bedroom. The clock now stands beside me at eye level on a smart new bedside chest of drawers, instead of on a pile of bed parts on the floor where my eye was instinctively searching for it.

This is all change for the better. We have chosen our new existence. We have discarded other options and chosen this one. It is a good choice and we are happy. But sometimes the mind and body, let alone the subconscious, are not so easily satisfied. Changes can be good; changes can be bad. But all change has consequences and on a subconscious level there is strain. Maybe it is simply that the tree outside the window of my new home is two feet taller. Maybe the birdsong is different. Maybe the neighbours speak with a different accent and I buy my groceries in a different shop. It doesn’t matter; I will get used to it. But inevitably there is strain; there is stress. My toothpaste is turquoise – and my inner self knows it isn’t right. This is going to take more time than I thought. Moving house is quite a project, it seems...