Thursday, 10 May 2012

A very ordinary day

Posted by Tania Kindersley.

Author's note: This is actually yesterday's blog. I stupidly pressed publish and then moved away from my computer, so I did not see the flashing error 403 message. As a result, this crucial piece of reportage lay unpublished all night long, whilst I blithely slept. I can only apologise for the crashing logistical error.

So, even though the blog says 10th of May, this is, in fact, the 9th.

Today I:
Did the horses. Gazed anxiously at the weather reports, trying to judge whether the equines would be warm enough without their rugs. Wrote approximately 1900 words. Did research. Saw my mother. Spoke to my brother. Watched the great-nephew gather eggs. Sent a long email to The Beloved Cousin. Had a blinding idea for a play, which is ironical, since I have absolutely no idea how to write a play. If I were brave enough, I would ring up my friend The Playwright and ask him. But that would be too gauche.

I ate the smoked mackerel paté, which was really rather good.

My favourite old gentleman arrives, having suddenly taken it into his head to mend my wall, which I had broken, by reversing very slowly into it whilst thinking of something quite else. It turns out that among his great talents is the ability to make a dry stone wall. I stand in awe and wonder as he makes good what was a crumbling mess. He is eighty-two years old and he fixes up that wall as if he were a man of forty. I run out of words for thank you.

I walk the dog and inspect the garden and contemplate what spring planting I should do. I read a book. I sneakily take half an hour to watch a couple of races from Chester and back two winners and have a little shout.

I go back up to the horses, for their evening check. I get some equine love, not quite as mystical and miraculous as last night, but still pretty good. I gaze at the blue hill and feel gratitude for the view.

Meanwhile, out in the real world, the Queen made her speech, and I did not hear a word of it. Normally, I would watch the whole thing like the political geek I am. At the moment, I am so intensely mired in book and horse that there is no space for anything else. I get little glimmers and hints of what is happening in the outside world from Twitter (very informative, despite what its detractors say) and snatches of the Today Programme. But just now, it is passing me by. I am letting the gaudy carnival swing on without me.

I feel a peculiar low level guilt, but it is quite restful in a way, not having to have a strong, well-formed opinion on every single matter at the exact moment it occurs. I start to understand what the apolitical people must feel like. I start to get a faint sense of the to hell with the whole shower brigade. I can’t ever be like that for long, because of the geekery, and also because of the Pankhursts. I figure that if women tied themselves to railings so I might have the vote, the least I can do is be engaged in affairs of state. It’s an absurd belief, but it’s my belief, and I am sticking to it.

The light is going now. I scan the sky, hoping for good news. The sky stares back at me, promising nothing. One day, I think, the warmth will come, and I can cast off my tweeds and shawls and feel the sun on my back.

Some very quick pictures for you, because it is late and I am tired:

9 May 1 08-05-2012 19-02-41 4032x3024

9 May 2 08-05-2012 19-04-43 3024x4032

9 May 3 08-05-2012 19-05-38 4032x3024

9 May 5 27-04-2012 13-17-46 2179x3084

9 May 6 08-05-2012 19-06-05 3024x4032

9 May 20 08-05-2012 19-02-09 3339x1672


  1. Yes it's tweeds, shawls and galoshes all the way, down here too. When the sun manages to break though for a millisecond I feel as though I have just woken up.

  2. I love ordinary days. They are so restful.

    A tiny blogging tip: if you want to change the date on a post, this is in fact easily done (I also use blogspot): where the post gives date information, simply change from Automatic to Set Date and Time, and choose your own chronology. Shout if the settings aren't obvious.

    You may also be amused to know that on seeing the 'Today I' sentence before the list of Things, I read it as a roman numeral, and spent a moment looking for Today II further down the post. Oh, dear.

  3. A day late, but not a dollar short. Frankly, if I lived where you do, I would be tempted to shut out the whole rest of the world and just go forward with the Pigeon, Red, family and friends. ;-)

    Love the reminder that if someone could chain herself to a rail--or endure hunger strikes in jail and beatings and all the other awful treatment--just so I could vote, I can get off my arse and pay attention. Even when 'politics' is too dreary for words, as it is right now. Thanks.



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