This morning, wood pigeons are sounding their calls and I remember them heralding in the sunny days of my youth. The air carries definite hints of spring, and I call the scent raw floral as I am transported back to my time of harvesting daffodil bulbs. Last night’s mist has cleared and the day is beginning to be seen.
Alt text says this week’s photo is a group of books on a patterned surface. I say it is three elements of the post I received on Saturday. I also say it is an absolute delight (and indeed a rarity) to receive three wonderful things in the post on the same day. It also tied in well with my recent thoughts about surprise and anticipation. (More about the excellent book Safety In Numbers soon, but if you have read it or been to any of the launches so far you will know it is a thing of beauty. I heartily congratulate Gill Connors on bringing this book into the world.)
I’ll delve a bit into anticipation which is one of my favourite feelings. I’ll also clarify this by saying it’s the version of anticipation that involves looking forward to something rather than the anticipation of something that might go wrong. Positive anticipation is a wonderful fizzy kind of feeling for me, and I was thinking about it as a particular kind of joy recently, and sensing that something felt different about it. I realised that there doesn’t always need to be an extended period of anticipation now for it to feel exciting to me. It can be a plan made the night before or taking time to linger in the thought of what lies ahead in the day. I think I might have got better at seizing moments of anticipation.
Just when I was congratulating myself for what seemed to be a good step forward, I thought about something that often accompanies anticipation for me. And that is preparedness. I was thinking that this makes me a good travel companion because I tend to have things with me just in case. Spare sanitary towels? No problem. Need a painkiller? No problem. Got bitten by an insect? Here’s some bite cream. (The list goes on trust me!)
Which got me to thinking maybe those two feelings – anticipation and preparedness – are a perfect pairing. Perhaps I have got better at enjoying anticipation and am more ready for it because I am good at being prepared. I was ready to praise myself for the way the two things entwine when I remembered how heavy my overnight bag is. Possibly much heavier than it needs to be. This isn’t too bad when it gets taken straight from the car to the hotel, but I definitely notice it when I have to carry it that bit further. That moment when I change arms for the third time and the muscles still burn, and I wonder why I haven’t just brought one clean pair of pants and a toothbrush. I thought about changing my bag for one with wheels to combat the weight and then I got to wondering whether I could change my habits and pack more lightly.
There was something freeing about thinking of not carrying so much stuff. But that would mean letting go of some of the items that contribute to my preparedness, and I do like to be prepared. At this point I decided to look up the definition of preparedness, fully expecting my Google search to confirm it as a positive and sensible readiness. And yet there before my eyes were the words disaster, emergency, and risk. Those three words resonated more than I had anticipated!
Time to take some action, and in case you’re wondering how it’s going…so far I have removed two of the spare packets of tissues from my bag, halved the painkillers, ditched the tube of burn cream, decided to invest in a small rucksack for overnight stays, and booked a trip on a paddle steamer!
This poem, taken from my first collection Magnifying Glass, captures a moment in time of standing in anticipation of a childhood day that is unfolding.
CAPS IN HER GUN
She has the smell of thin, brown leather
in her nose,
a print of softness on its tip
from kissing Orinoco’s hat.
She has tucked up the toys in her bed,
wished herself a cowboy for the day.
Holster on, bandana tied, sheriff badge shining,
she stands tall, shoulders wide.
Caps in her gun,
ready to shoot.
Sue Finch 