Wednesday, 6 March 2013

Room with a view



It was actually light when I left for work this morning; really light, not the feeble grey murk I've come to expect over the last few weeks.  Even better, it was still light when I got home, and stayed that way for over an hour.  So instead of settling down to do some writing, I've been staring out of the window.  My fruit trees are just starting to bud, and they look lovely.  A poor excuse, I know.  Especially when you consider the achievements of others, who had much better views than I have to distract them.

Take Dickens, for example.  Several years ago I visited Bleak House in Broadstairs and stood at his desk, gazing at the sea. OK, so the English Channel isn't the most beautiful waterway in the world, but on that particular day it was calm all the way to the horizon, and it was completely mesmerising. In rough weather it must be amazing. How Dickens ever managed to put pen to paper there I'll never know, let alone write something the length of David Copperfield.

All I've managed to write tonight is a note to the man who's coming tomorrow to lop the tops off the very trees I've been gazing at.  They might be lovely, but they are too tall.  I am slightly worried about the pruning, as my beloved will be supervising the proceedings and, if I don't leave detailed instructions and a diagram, it could be 'short back and sides and stand up straight' for my sentries, rather than 'just follow the wave and trim it a bit'.   Then the only view I'd have would be of the Leisure Centre; hardly distracting, but not very inspiring either.