yesterday all my troubles

thundered down on me, as they had done the day before. . .

but something deep inside me (perhaps the need to drink coffee) made me venture out of the glass tower, to go to the corner shop to buy some milk

I crossed the path of the silver soft top (by total coincidence, and not one I would have planned if I'd known) exiting the underground parking. . .
(it really is very pucker here - who'd have thought it when
XCH and I were penniless students all those years ago, from ordinary families, I never knew - because he never told me - that he aspired to this sort of thing) (or maybe he didn't then; perhaps he just kind of arrived here, with me sort of in tow along part of the journey, tied in his wake by the strings of one of my homemade aprons) (I used to do a very good line in homemade aprons - found some marvellous fabric dead cheap at IKEA of all places, and bought lots of wooden spoons; made child-size and adult size aprons and sold them with a wooden spoon in the pocket, all prettied up with ric-rac, at local xmas craft fairs) (I think the profit I made covered the cost of the petrol to IKEA and the few dozen times I had to drive around the North/South Circular to get there) (ho hum)

. . .with Mini-Teen in the front passenger seat (where I used to sit)

the experience made me feel very alone and very left out (whereas selling aprons to people who didn't know how to use a sewing machine gave me a strange sense of fulfilment, at the time)
on the way back from the corner shop, I passed a home furnishing store and - even tho this is not my home - I decided to spend a huge amount of money on new bedlinen (XCH's not only needed washing, cos I've slept in it for over a week now, but reminded me too much of our marriage and - strangely - Manhattan hotels); later I went back and bought some cushions and throw to jolly up his black leather bachelor sofa. . .

. . .then I rearranged his furniture (which I helped him choose, even tho we'd separated), so that all the seats are facing the view, instead of the tv and the games consoles

. . .then I rearranged his art work (all of which we'd bought together, when we were married), so I have the pictures hanging where I'd like to see them
. . .then I rearranged his what-used-to-be-garden-furniture (which I'd bought him as a present three summers ago, with the profits from my apron-and-other-hand-made-items-business), on the deck-cum-terrace-cum-patio that wraps itself around his sky high apartment, so I can sit comfortably at a table when I draw
then I drew little boats all day long,
in between drinking lots of coffee
and smoking far too many fags
then I was very sad for a while,
but not as sad as I'd been on Friday
and earlier on in the day

on Friday I was told that I will be here, alone,
for six months

but, each day as it comes, eh;
each morning, afternoon or evening;
each hour, each minute or second

thank you for spending
a few of yours with me

I enjoy
your company
very much. . .

happy day, dear reader,
happy day


Z said...


Gordie said...

You're not alone.
Your life has changed, but you are not alone. Your family has changed, but they are still yours, and you are still theirs.

You knew you wanted change. Perhaps you treatment rubbed out those memories.

I know that what you have now is not what you want, but where you are now is the result of asking for what you wanted. This is your journey, and you are in the middle of it.

You took your own advice. You started in the middle. You did all that the wise people ever do: you said what you needed to say, as clearly as you could, to the people you needed to hear it.

Happy day, dear friend.

Mel said...

Multiple times I've tried to comment and multiple times I've dealt with lost electricity from the noisy electrical storm that's thundering away outside.

The storm will pass, no doubt.
And the sun will be revealed.
Cuz it won't always be like this.
It's just the circumstances, today......this moment....

*HUGE hugs before I lose electricty AGAIN!*

Anonymous G said...

Your aprons. How sweet. I can picture them, in all their homey goodness. :-)

Each moment as it comes, not alone.

gentle hugs

mig bardsley said...

I'm thinking of you in the glass tower and imagining the changes gradually appearing in the drawings of little boats. And how the small changes show that the tide is turning.
Also thinking, I bet the aprons were beautiful and speaking as a person who has to read the manual each time she opens the sewing machine, I think you deserved your sense of fulfillment. There's a special pleasure in making something both useful and beautiful. And obviously desirable as well :) Profits! Coo!

Love and hugs.

katherine. said...

(little notes AND little hearts....makes me smile)

keep drinking coffee and drawing...(and smoking if you have

thank YOU for giving all of us a place to find new verses...and be reminded of favorite melodies!

Steg said...


Beyond that all is superfluous.

*more hugs*