Lovely walk this morning with a friend who I haven’t managed to catch up with for a while. On our turn around the flats (makes us sound like a pair of grannies!) we talked about this and that. The best kind of conversation for a sunny day.
David Hockney’s new blossom paintings ‘The Arrival of Spring: Normandy 2020’ (showing at the RA from 23 May until 26 Sept 2021), his escape to France to paint them (I’d do exactly the same if I were him!) and the times we have seen his work previously. One of these places that always springs to mind is the David Hockney Gallery at Salt Mills, Saltaire in Bradford near where he was born. Getting Yorkshire pangs again!
We saw two ducks waddling by, far away from any of the ponds, down by the strip of the flats that is cut through by Centre Road/the A114. They seemed happy enough, like it was the most natural thing in the world to just be taking a promenade. Off piste but chilled out… we’ll get there in the end.
And we talked of writing diaries just like this one. The diaries we kept during lockdowns, the ones we wrote as teenagers, the notes we made as children. Recording, documenting, pouring out, sharing thoughts, having a consistent confidant, creating a legacy, finding the therapy within letting it all out, the liberation of the written word.
I’m so glad I’ve kept this one going. It’s been tougher to keep going now the kids have gone back to school as the pressure has shifted back onto filling the hours with work and chores (currently getting stuck into a mega flat-plan while being constantly distracted by errands). But we’re not out of this pandemic yet and it’s important to keep up those things that are keeping each of us mentally afloat: the walks, the talks, the diaries, the checking in, the nature, the running and the gardening.
Speaking of which, there’s just enough ‘lunch hour’ left (this is a joke, I never take a lunch hour) to soak in those rays and get a few more seeds sown before it’s time to pick up the kids again.