Say The Thing

Posted by Tania Kindersley.

I’m always bashing on about saying The Thing. I do not always follow my own advice. There was something I was struggling with yesterday, and, in the dark spaces of my own mind, I had blown it up into something big and difficult and complicated. There was a serious conversation that had to be had, but I did not especially want to have it.

Today, I had it. It was fine.

I said my thing. The other person said her thing. We came to amicable resolution. (I’m not being abstruse, it’s just the details are too boring to go into.)

It’s a principle thing, really, which is also why details are not important. I always, always forget, no matter how much I know this on paper, that the thing which takes on a terrifying, looming aspect in my crazy head, almost inevitably unknots itself as easily as silk ribbon once I actually do the talking.

It’s just sometimes I don’t want to do the talking. Sometimes I wish people would know my thoughts by osmosis. This is unrealistic and silly, and I must stop it. It’s just life, after all; it’s what everyone has to do.

So, this morning I woke still feeling grungy and furious. Now, as the light fades, and the moon rises outside my window, I feel light and hopeful. The conversation was to do with work, and the work that must be done is still serious and challenging, but the tight, internal worry has dissipated.

Say The Thing; Say The Thing. It’s so important I am writing it twice.

The Man of Letters leaves a message on my machine. ‘What is all this gloom business?’ he asks. I sometimes forget that he reads this blog. It makes me smile that he does. He is very busy with Letters, after all.

‘But I do notice your readers are rallying round,’ he adds. Do I hear a slight air of wistfulness in his voice? He writes a column in a paper, and so has to deal with the Green Ink brigade, who are often cross and accusatory, and have a hair-trigger tendency to take things the wrong way. My Dear Readers, I think, proudly, never take things the wrong way. And damn well do rally round. Which, just at the moment, feels like a wonderfully good deed in a very naughty world.

 

Now for your pictures of the day:

On our walk, I look up, and see an aeroplane describing a perfect curve high in the air. As always, I wonder where it is going:

I fear you may have the beech avenue every day at the moment, because it is looking so magical:

A glorious coo, lit by the golden afternoon light:

The Pigeon, crazily eating the snow as if it were ice-cream:

And the absurdly adorable face afterwards, with the snow on the nose, which makes me laugh every time:

Two hills today, one from wide angle, one from my front door:

Thank you for yesterday. You are very splendid rallying readers, and a reassuring reminder that we all have our shitty days.