A month without post. No apologies, just a myriad of feeling and thought.
I left Walthamstow today for the very last time of living there. Walking down Church Hill towards Asda and the station, the wind was blowing gustily. A wind of change, a cliche, but yes a wind of change.
My purpose in Walthamstow was to go and tidy my old house further, but in the end, Gavin had done most of the work the previous evening and into the morning. The house looked dull and empty and lifeless and souless - set in its own rigor mortis, not betraying any of the fun and joy, or anger and frustration, or love and passion that its volume has hosted and leant soul to. When we first saw the house in 2002, it lulled us in; the walls promised cubic metres of liveliness, a house full of people and friendship. And that is what it has been. Although we all leave frayed around the edges, and with better nature distorted in places, the core of the time remains, and there are no regrets in moving - it was right to do and will manifest itself in new life and chapters in new places. The house? 146? The famous 146 parties? The meals? The people? That has died. Our house has died. It will regenerate itself for someone else just as it has done many times before - someone else will enjoy that feeling of promise, but that is what houses do.
Sitting here in my new flat in NW London, I am crammed in with my belongings strewn messily about like a messier person than me would strew. There is promise here too, but in a different way. This is an adult flat with big bay windows, a proper dining table, high ceilings and the feeling of being grown up. From my bed here now, I hear the trees outside in the garden talking to one another - blowing around the change and showing the beginnings of new life. Once I get a key to the garden, I will have to go and explore. Oh yes! A game! An adventure! I still have childish needs, and they link with the need to find laughter and happy people with surprises and mental acrobatics.
So bring on the wine, the port, the candles, the laughter, and the Miles Davis, and enter Chapter 147........
