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5 August, Monday,
We have been here for a week, still getting suitcases put away. Thomas has a red throat and an appointment with the doctor at 5:40 this evening. Cathy is having a spot of tea with Christopher and Robert 's mum. I am looking through catalogues, trying to figure out how to furnish my writing quarters, the drawing room. Still shopping, a lot of fun to spend the money! Cathy has ordered her armoire for delivery. Our shipped boxes have cleared customs and are awaiting delivery, provided I can come up with a bill of lading!
I am surprised to feel so at home here. I often forget I am in a foreign country, then I hear the accent, reminding me that I am far away from home.
Quite breezy today, but the wind is supposed to blow in the warmer weather; even now, the day begins to lighten up.
The time has come for serious thinking as I approach the end of a two month vacation and the beginning of a third: a real old-fashioned summer vacation. Settling in here reminds me of my days at law school or college: setting up house, making my mark on someone else's property. I have tried to think about writing, to get myself ready. Unless I set definite goals, I will proceed aimlessly over the year. Perhaps the plan will come as I continue to write. I must think of a way to make money, to support my family. Now that the PR case has come and gone there is no longer the prospect of undefinable wealth somewhere out in the future to rescue us.
It's time to get on with the show.
9 August. Friday, 11:53 pm . Last night I had a dream which gave me shivers and woke me up. The images remain with me 24 hours later:
I left Robert fiddling around with some kind of electronic device, perhaps a radio or a model car. He was attaching a wire to the device. I forget what happened next. I told Robert to be careful, but saw no harm in what he was doing. The next thing I remember is that some time elapsed and then someone I knew (?) escorted me through some doors into another room, and there, standing inside the room was my grandmother, Gogo, alone and smiling. I think my other grandmother, Mer, might have been there too. In a flash I said (I figured it out), "You mean I'm dead?!" I didn't remember anything untoward happening. The answer was, "Yes," and immediately there was an image of me (not Robert ) writhing on the floor, having been electrocuted!
I woke up immediately, and it still gives me a creepy feeling. It reminds me of my early dream, as a boy, of an after death consciousness, following electrocution in the ocean. The likely explanation is that I have not as yet integrated death into my life.
13 August. Tuesday morning, 8:18 . Sunny. It was cold last night in bed, I had to cover up. This is our third week here and it doesn't seem as if we have done much. Already the boys asked, "Have we been in the UK US
Which brings me to the question: Why did I come to England
17 August. Saturday, 7:35 am . Cloudy and breezy. How marvelous it is to be able to write at a place and open the windows this time of year!
I awoke at 3 a.m. last night, had to go to the bathroom, but then was wide awake, and felt anxious. I heard a creak upstairs as if one of the boys was up too, but it was probably just the house itself. I thought to myself, I sense an evil feeling, and began to say Our Fathers with the emphasis on "deliver us from evil." Then it occurred to me that I had awakened, consciously or unconsciously, at the precise time of Kevin and Silvia 's wedding. I mentioned this to a sleepy Cathy and said a prayer for them. Perhaps my anxiety/evil feeling had its subconscious origin in fears/hopes for Kevin/Silvia. Perhaps evil ways were escaping Kevin and headed to the brother most like him/likely to be vulnerable? My prayers put me back to sleep, though I continued to toss and turn, probably as a result of the very nice dinner Cathy and I had at the Saffron Walden Hotel: Dover
I read in the Oxford Book of Dreams yesterday about a Greek who believed that dreaming of one's own death signified an end to one's anxieties (death to anxiety). Another entry said that most problem dreams are the result of indigestion!
Last night, I also dreamt I found myself back at the office after two months, having given up any idea of writing. It was quite depressing to feel that I had failed in my plan, a feeling of having given up without trying. This was tacitly acknowledged by everyone, as nobody seemed interested in asking me any questions about the trip, the writing, etc.
19 August. Monday, 8 am . I've noticed a blackbird on the lawn almost every morning, followed by a bird, about the same size, but with unremarkable colors: brownish gray, black, brown beak, all in contrast to the shiny black feathers and orange beak of the blackbird. Yesterday at about 7 or so in the evening, I heard before I saw, a flock of geese heading southeast.
My feet were cold last night, down to 7 degrees C (around 45 degrees F). Should be in the 70's today, however; rather like the mountains!
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| Breakfast at Westfields |
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| Our Downstairs Hallway |
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| The View from Jeffrey's Room |
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| The AGA |
20 August. Tuesday. Minutes after midnight . The evening is positively balmy, in contrast to last night, when the weather was downright cold, with some reports of frost to the east. It's strange tonight, Halloween-ish spooky, like those warm nights in October I remember as a child in Southern California . Tonight seems the same, the warmth out of place, although it is really the cold that is out of place. Why doesn't the cold bring on its own set of memories? Could it be that cold signifies hardship, sweaters, stay warm, etc., while warm, especially at night, is luxury: no worries, relax, etc. Perhaps cold at night has a built in feeling: warning, be careful, take care; while warm is free of such feelings, susceptible of replacements.
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