Dear reader,
On the afternoon of my birthday I started coughing. I had been down to an 80th birthday party in Sussex at the weekend and thought I had probably got a chill at some time. We stayed in a hotel which didn't provide blankets so we had to put up with duvets. I can't bear duvets, either I am much too hot or much too cold. Perhaps that it where my cough is coming from I thought. But just to be sure Francis tested me and yes I had Covid. So this last week hasn't been tip-top for me. Coughing most of the night and thereby not sleeping very much at all has made me very tired. But I am so grateful that the three vaccinations helped me so that although Covid is not what you would want but not bad enough for hospitalization. I went for a short walk this morning and it was lovely being out in the sunshine, I have taken a turn for the better I think.
*
Out of my study window I saw this week lots of yellow butterflies. Are these butterflies the first to appear in spring? I haven't seen any other coloured ones.
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A short piece from my book: 'Half a Pair of People', Chapter 3.
Depression, despair, and misery swept over me quite frequently in
the early months. It struck around the hour of the dawn chorus.
Sleep was impossible. Eventually, however, I did find some good
ways of combating it. Thought control at night was essential; simply
not allowing your thoughts to stray into depressing areas. I made
literary problems for myself to work out. I pondered upon what Miss
Haversham would have done with her life if she had not decided to
spend it in one dark and cobwebby room? Or, had she lived now,
would Lady Bartram have risen from her sofa to raise money for the
Conservative Party, or NSPCC or rather, in her case, for the RSPCA?
That sort of thing. Sewing is soothing at 3.15am and with the World
Service and a cup of tea quite an enjoyable way of spending the
night. My sewing abilities are non-existent, but I made an attempt to
master easy patchwork; now tablecloths and several cushions
stitched in the early hours. My sister gave me some tapes of Peggy
Ashcroft reading four Katherine Mansfield short stories. These were
wonderfully sleep-inducing.
*
Realization
I am
part of the whole.
I am
in the first light,
the bird's first song,
the sun's first dart
through the curtain crack,
in the music of summer trees.
I am
part of the alpha,
the birth,
the awakening,
the growing and spreading,
the throbbing of life.
I am part of all suffering
hands blood-stained.
Part of the love
humanity shares and
of all good things.
I am
part of the omega,
the closing, the last light,
the call back from the dark
to the bright, eternal night.
*
With very best wishes, my dear friends,
Patricia
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