Bliss: definition – (entirely subjective) – A cool day, a fresh wind, a pot of tea and a good book. I’m almost tempted to add “what could possibly go wrong?” but that might invoke a cyclone, so I’ll stay quiet. (Note the bookmark – a little bit of self-promotion can’t be avoided…) The gorgeous tea cozy was knitted by my friend Clare – and yes, they’re useful in Darwin! Tea goes cold fast under ceiling fans.
It’s my favourite time of year to be at home : that lovely interim between Christmas and New Year’s Eve, when the town is quiet, half the population seems to have either fled north to Bali or somewhere south, and the remainder are working at half pace, or going out for breakfast and reading the books they were given for Christmas last year. People linger over coffee and newspapers in cafes, and move more slowly. The word languorously springs to mind. No one minds the rain. A torrential downpour brings people out with grins and bare feet, shoes carried across the gushing streets. It’s COOL. It’s humid, but it’s not 36C either.
During this quiet time, Lex and I have read books, spent time with friends we don’t see enough of, written long overdue letters – real letters – and taken grandkids to the movies. We’ve also put up a pin board in my writing room, setting me up to start work on the 2nd of January. I’ve pinned up props and prompts that will hopefully keep me on track, spark ideas, and remind me what I’m trying to do. (When I’ve figured that out enough, I’ll tell you.) The grey is a bit boring, but I reckon I’ll have it hidden in another few weeks.
Happy New Year!