Lately, I've had a low level buzzing going on in my head, probably caused by a whole lot of must-do's, and it's just not conducive to any kind of work flow. But you know that already.
I've come here to blog a few times but deleted after just a paragraph or two. There was no fire, no words came.
Tonight, it's 25 celsius as I write this ... almost 10pm, still quite light outside, with swallows whistling up and down the street like crazy out-of-control children. I know summer's coming when the swallows return. I do love them.
Here in Belgium, our team of three have been hard at work on our A New Way of Seeing - Photography Retreats project, fine-tuning and preparing. It just keeps developing in ways that excite and delight us. It's hard work but we're having fun. It's a big old dream coming true.
Next week I'll be back in Genova, and will spend two nights at Lake Como before returning home but more on that once I'm there. Then there's Norway in August and a photography workshop that I'm so looking forward to there.
Which reminds me ... I met the loveliest woman on the train between Genova and Milan last time I was there. Her name was Patrizia, I think, she lives in Denmark. I didn't have any business cards left but she wrote her email address on a scrap of paper and I did the same. We talked for most of those 2 hours on that train and I did so enjoy her company. Unfortunately I lost the scrap of paper somewhere between Milan and home.
Patrizia, if you did manage to hang on to my details and do read my blog, I would love to hear from you.
As for today ... I biked over to the Russian tailor. Dank u wel to Lucy for letting me know about him. My beautiful shawl, purchased in Genova, needed some of its fringe cut. It's a little bit long and perhaps a little bit too red on the ends too.
Dimitrii was lovely. I explained that I had a history of cutting things that shouldn't be cut and needed him to be doing this thing for me. Actually mostly it's been my hair that I've cut (and regretted cutting) but it was enough to make me terrified of ruining the shawl if I shortened the tassels myself.
Actually, I had my hair in the 'about to be cut' position the other night but couldn't find scissors. It's really long at the moment, and rather warm here in Antwerp. To explain, I've had a lifetime of going to hairdressers who talk me into letting them cut my hair short and really, I hate it short. But once I'm in their chair, I'm weakened by promises of end-result glamour. Mostly they lie...
So I pick that beautiful shawl up on Saturday and then, I shall wear it whenever possible. I think it will be just right for evenings out.
My head must be clearing though. I excavated my desk today, its drawers, the cupboard and all storage boxes within reach. It's all rather beautiful again. My typewriter has a permanent place but it's an interesting creature. It has a European keyboard, with the A, M, and other important keys not in the place I prefer them to be. I make mistakes. I have a bottle Pritt Fluid. One needs to really hit the keys. After a typewriter session, the computer keyboard feels plush and luxurious. The delete key is heaven.
I have begun packing the cords, cables, and equipment required for out there on the road. A small pilot's bag is slowly filling with 'other' plugs for the slightly different Italian sockets. The USB modem is there. The card reader, the tripod, the sunhoods for the lenses, and etc. On Wednesday I will become my other self, the one known as Sherpa Di.
The biggest news though ... Miss 9 will wake as Miss 10 in the morning. We are so full of thanksgiving when it comes to that little person. Today she presented me with a great big hand-made book of her paintings and text. 'Voor Di' is there on the cover. It's something I'll treasure. Her art works are stunning. She insisted on reading it to me tonight, translating it as she went. We finished our most recent book series last night and so it was timely.
I think I may have prattled on a little but I wanted to catch up some. I've missed blogging. Actually, I have missed being able to access my mind and write coherently. Here's to the headache being gone on the morrow and to lucid thought returning.
Failing that, then I shall just have to wait for Italia to work its usual magic on me.
The photograph ... found in a beautiful village in France.