dear readers (hah!)
the fire crackles in the boathouse, radio 4 is on softly in the background for me to ignore, i have (unusually) a gin – a frankly massive slug of tanqueray, squeezed lime, lots of ice and (because we must all buy into the fad brands) fever tree tonic (it does taste nice though…). ahhhh.
and i write knowing you have all gone.
well no, not gone of course but merely that you are somewhere which doesn’t necessarily involve reading here. fickle buggers – it’s a only a year since last i wrote. i write as i have always written – largely for, and to, myself. when readers were kind enough to enjoy and share it, that was a bonus. a lovely bonus.
as i say, it’s only a year since i last wrote.
and without much originality.
oh ok – fair enough.
you are all wherever you are in time and space, but as the father of a teenager (yes the boy in the picture is now a teenager – still perfect, still achingly beautiful but now the platonic ideal of grunting impenetrable teenager) i shout out (am i allowed to use it as a verb any more or has it forever been converted to a noun? oh bugger that, it’s christmas/yule/saturnalia/the winter solstice but so not ‘holidays’ (gakgakgak)) here to my lovely internet mum ms woo (The Witch – please note use of upper case), her grumpy friend (but thanks for the jaffa cakes), sparkle, the lover of humankind ehj, daisy and the awesome violet socks doctor of bloody good sense and simple humanity. after a year when little good seems to have happened in the wider world, i send my love to you all as representatives of everyperson. and yes, i am aware of the irony of that term when the (former) readership of this blog would struggle to fill a ford fiesta.
and yes (a second time) – i do realise my addiction to the parenthesis (if not parentheses) persists.
and no – i’m not getting ‘help’ with that.
dammit where was i? ah yes – putting myself outside a gin in the boathouse. oh and writing. as christmas day and the birth of the summer king approach.
so why write now when there are enough people around the world having what would be a vast understatement to call a thoroughly lousy christmas? when i could devote my energies to … well any of the multitude of things worldwide that need sorting … when i could concentrate on emptying that ocean one spoonful at a time (as a wise woman put it).
well maybe i can tip my teaspoonful of love into the global container. i can send my love and thanks to those here and gone. those who have been kind enough to impact on my life; those i knew intimately and who walked with me for years but will walk with me forever; those i was privileged to spend a little time with and who managed to make me better almost without trying; those i may have seen or heard but who never knew what they gave me; those i encountered only through the intertoobs but still gave me joy or learning or a momentary smile. you are many – and many of you don’t even know you are part of the ‘many’. but i thank you all; i bless the world that sent me those years or seconds that have built whatever i now am.
so friends here, gone and yet to come – my love to you as the bells call out christmas and tell the story of where we are and where we will go. whatever you may believe, whatever name you put on your belief, know that i believe in you. whoever you choose to give your thanks to, know that i thank you. and whoever you love, know that i love you.
in a world so much at war, i wish you peace.
in a world where so many are sad, i wish you joy.
in an uncertain future i wish you .. the glory of uncertainty.
but above all … love – love from those you love; love to those who love you. i tip my tiny spoon of love into the vast cup of the universe and believe it is fuller.