There couldn’t have been a better start to my Monday morning – sighting deer leaping across the golden grass in the fields by Abbots Pool. It will be a lot cooler in a few weeks’ time and I’m already anticipating mourning the loss of this eternal sunshine.
The process of taking stock has now become one of letting go – which is also proving to be a challenge. The room which holds all my papers, unseen manuscripts and other rough diamonds is now empty – with the contents strewn neatly in piles and boxes all over the house. Letting go seems to be almost impossible. The reason could be attributed to discovering a diary from 1981 with entries like this:
15 April: Holidays started. Came at 1.45 from school and slept nicely after going to library. Brought 2 Enid Blytons. Ate a bar of Cadbury’s. Relatives came. Didn’t talk much. Wasn’t bothered. Got bored. Watched TV – space shuttle. It was fantastic. Slept at 11 p.m.
16 April: Started clearing up some mess. Made a bigger mess of it. Got up the attic to put away useless books. Sat there and read Time magazine from 1972!
Summer holidays from days gone by are the repositories of our most blissful, nostalgic trips down memory lane. They were all about meeting friends, family, laughter, leisurely outings to the cinema, and most of all, getting bored. Many of those people mentioned in the diary are not in touch, but the memories remain enclosed in a golden cocoon of light and warmth.