Sunday

Posted by Tania Kindersley.

Yesterday was a happy day. Here are some of the things I cooked:

I was very proud of my cheese straws:

Cooking is good, at a time like this. It is both literal and symbolic, which feels important.

I am conscious that I am not yet quite ready for people I do not know very well. There is an odd sense of relearning a language. I keep thinking that I am quite fine, that I am coming back to equilibrium. Look: I can laugh and make conversation. Then I think: did I just say that thing very, very loud? Or: where did the point of that sentence go? I talk too fast, or suddenly stutter. It's absolutely almost normal, and it is not normal at all. I can't explain it much better than that.

Late last night, I violently missed my dad, for no particular reason. It came out of nowhere, like a high wind, roared through me, and blew out to the west.

Today I think: stillness is the thing. It is a low, grey day. The dog is sleeping at my feet. The house is quite silent.

Outside, the lilacs are flowering:

And the little chive flowers are standing to attention:

Here is The Pigeon, listening to the lambs calling in the west meadow:

And here is the hill: