Morning time had me hang out a load of washing on the clothes line and within a few hours the clothes came fresh and smelling of the sea and the land. I buried my nose into cleansed shirts and socks and t.towels and if anyone saw me they would say look at that woman, she's mad. I don't care. This is what my day brings.
Email from friend to confirm lunch on Monday. Have not seen her in over twenty years. What will I make? Roasted red pepper soup? Garlic bread, no, maybe not. Salad? Smoked Salmon and brown bread? Quiche. Help!
In the afternoon I head up to the Culinary Arts School for a tour and a pre-registration talk. It sounds wonderful. I think I would adore it apart from the IT classes. I can apply as a ''mature'' student. Mature students are welcomed. People come from all over the globe to attend this school. Only thirty people are accepted. The interview is in May. I hold my breath. The result is not known until July. I saw fabulous kitchens and copper pots and a group of students in chef's hats and white coats decorate cakes with finesse and blend sauces with flair. They looked incredibly professional. These students get internships abroad. My sons look doubtful. Surely their Mom needs to stay at home...We shall see. I would like it.
I saw a heron today on a rock by the sea. It did not appear real, still as the water until it flew off with a great swoop and a glide. Effortless, it seemed to me, just like the white chefs. I walked the dogs after the visit to the school. I needed to clear my head. I was all over the place. The smallest dog loves the water and I threw pointless stones for her, ones that sank, ones that she could never retrieve and yet she persisted, kept swimming in circles trying to find them. That bothered me because I saw myself out there, fumbling like a fool for things that I might not be able to gather in. The sun was warm and throngs of people sat on the beach stones like seals and women showed their white bodies and breasts and men strutted - like arrogant peacocks. I wanted to be home.
I picked up my son from Rugby practice and we drove back to our quiet house and I made Tikka Masala for dinner with a cucumber and yogurt dip, basmati rice and toasted pitta bread. The secret to good chicken masala is cream. Added at the end. Sultanas. Turmeric. Yum.
So, that was my day. Volcanic ash that has drifted south, as the result of an eruption in Iceland, has caused this country to close its airspace use and so the skies are free of squiggles and lines and up there now there is nothing but cloud and dreams and the sunsets are promised to be more stunning than ever experienced here before. I think about my day. I will be glad when the sun finally sets. I am tired. Sated. Hopeful. Happy. Scared.