Posted on 09 June 2006

Picnic at Monestieres

I’m here in the south, listening to Joaquin Phoenix, all by my lonesome. The sun has been shining since I arrived and though I’ve been out a little – like the casual picnic at Monestieres above – and to market in Gaillac this morning with Bedding where I bought some fruit and vegies and calla lilies, I’ve hardly left the house. I’ve been reading a lot, thinking too, and though I have yet to decide what to do with the rest of my life, I am content. So far. I haven’t spent this much time alone for ages and so I am playing house, cleaning here and there, dancing to my favourite songs… nothing profound to report.

This evening I’ve been invited to dinner at Susan’s and David’s where I’ve promised to dance an Irish jig when David plays the Irish Washerwoman on his cello. I said one glass of wine might jog my memory and help my performance.

Susan and David

David has loaned me a car, a very old car, though he warned me the clutch isn’t up to much… so I doubt I’ll be travelling far… even a little worried about taking it to Gaillac.

Not much inspired reporting here, fear I am still jet-lagged.

Am in the middle of a book on travel writing and my favourite line so far is: “A vivir que son dos dias” that the author translates to “Live it up: Life lasts just a couple of days.” What if we lived always thinking this? I might try for a few days.

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