The plan had been to do a training walk up a big hill and down again with the Oxfam girls. However, when the alarm went off at 6.00 am I could hear the rain outside and figured it would be a dreary thing to walk in. However, it had to be a team choice to pike it so I sent an SMS to the other girls. It said something like “it’s raining, are we still training”. Only one said she would so democracy won out and we all went back to sleep.
Wanting to do some sort of exercise, three of us met up at the gym and did classes. There were some other gym buddies there and all of us went and had coffee later on. It was a delightful and sociable morning. I was home at 11.30 am.
K and I had been invited to a 60th birthday party in the afternoon. It was being held at a great outdoor bar situated on the outskirts of the city. We decided to take a train and tram in with the thought that there would not be much parking around the venue and it also allowed us to have a drink without worrying about driving home.
The trip in was long. Public transport is all well and good but it is awfully slow. The tram was dirty. Someone cleared their throat noisily and then spat out the window. Weird people hopped on and off the tram. But I think that is part of the fun of doing anything different, you see different sorts. What’s normal anyway?
When we arrived at the venue I was starving and thirsty. We went straight to the bar and organised drinks. It’s hard for me to choose drinks as a rule because wine and spirits make me feel ill which puts me off drinking. However, this place specialises in micro brewery ales and ciders and to my delight they had on offer a lovely cider by the name of Dirty Granny.
I chose to have a glass. What a lovely big glass of amber coloured sweetness. It was cold and delicious. Soothing all the way down to my empty belly.
There is something beautiful about having a drink like that on a warm day.
The atmosphere was very relaxed around the place. People of all ages where seated at weathered tables, shaded by umbrellas. Halfway through my drink I felt that lovely lick of warmth that told me that the alcohol had reached my brain. It’s like my mind just relaxes and with that my entire body feels at ease. It’s when I become so genial and chatty. That lovely tipsy feeling that will ensure a second glass will be enjoyed (which it was).
When I have a couple of drinks I kind of like the way my head space just opens and takes in the outside world. It just feels like a giant flower opening out in the heat of the day I wrote a poem dedicated to the day and have put it and the end of this post .
As I looked around I experienced a particularly unique feeling that I can only describe by telling the story below.
A few years ago I bought a Kate Bush CD by the name of Aerial. It must have been around 2005/2006. I’ve listened to it over and over and there is one particular song on it that I love. It’s called Bertie. It was written about her son and the words are so simple. When first I heard it I recall thinking that if the boys name in it were my son’s it would absolutely describe how I felt about him.
The song would remind me of when my son was small and all mine. He and I would play together outside or in a park. I loved his little hands, so soft and often full of leaves or twigs. Maybe some little beetle. His voice was sweet and I would put my head close to his so that he could whisper in my ear, his breathless words were so gorgeous to listen to.
Anyway at the very end of this song her son Bertie says something like “the day is full of bugs”. His voice is that of a little boy and, for some inexplicable reason, when I think of those words I feel they are the happiest in words in the world. Since first I heard them I, whenever I feel huge, huge happy emotions I think to myself that “the day is full of bugs”. It sounds completely crazy but it’s true.
Below are the words:
Bertie – Kate Bush.
Here comes the sunshine
Here comes that son of mine
Here comes the everything
Here’s a song and a song for him
The most willful
The most beautiful
The most truly fantastic smile
I’ve ever seen
You bring me so much joy
And then you bring me
So, there I was yesterday and I felt relaxed and cruisy. The sky was as blue as sky can be on a sunny day. Music was playing in the background. I looked around me. Looked at the young girls with their peachy skin and shiny hair. Young men in jeans and t-shirts making conversation with friends. I looked up at the big trees around me, their long, leafy branches reaching up into the sky.
And then I felt it. That explosive joy in my chest, in my head. It was that weird, absurd, insane joyfulness that makes me think that the world is full of bugs.
I wanted to explain it to my husband but I was quite emotional. No matter how I write here on my blog, I actually find it extremely difficult to express high emotions. It’s like my chest and throat close or something. I have always been like that.
So I turned to him and tried to explain the whole thing about the bugs.
“There’s a song by Kate Bush and it’s about her son and his name is Bertie and the song is so full of love for her son and when I listen to it I think how I love my own son and at the end of the song her son, Bertie, says in a small voice, he says that the world is full of bugs and his voice is so happy and, well looking around here and seeing the blue sky and the people and the music make me feel so happy that the day is full of bugs”.
As I said it I stared to cry. It was involuntary and the tears just sprung from my eyes. I wiped them away and kind of laughed in that self conscious way that one does when caught out with unexpected tears.
“I don’t know why I am crying. I’m not sad. It’s just that, I just am feeling that big happy and whenever I feel that I always think of those words”.
I looked around.
Yeah, the day was full of bugs at that moment.
And Dirty Granny cider.
Behind me the noise of unknown patrons
Who visit the square where the Sunday loners
Collect together and imbibe under the blue sky.
I embrace it, so long since I stood in a place
Of social gathering and free flowing drinks.
Which naturally I partake of and then converse
Like the others.
The afternoon has the sound of transient joy
With visions of youth supplanted around me
Like fond enemies of my aged years.
One more glass of Dirty Granny cider slips down
My self conscious being is obliterated and I embrace
The freedom of drink.
The strong, sweet cider is the social lubricant
Which makes life so easy under the treed canopy
With the warm breeze whispering in my ear.
Everything is amusing and my head is filled with
The laughter of nothing but the day
And the antics of others.
Those sunny afternoons should never end
But the time ticks on and duties are to be faced.
With a sigh of sullen discontent in my head
A move is made towards the exit
Feet leaden from the effects of a Dirty Granny,
Sunshine and blue sky.