Sparky

Fussing around in Feb

Our local beach is a changed place. The storms and relentless rain have reshaped it, the crashing waves taking greedy bites out of the sand and swallowing it into the shallows, creating an obstructive bank at the mouth of the harbour. At the far end, near the historic ammonite ‘graveyard’ or ‘pavement’ as it is known, there are muddy landslides pulling the vegetation in their wake. Every time I go down, there is something new to look at and yet, the familiarity of daily life remains.

Off go the fishing boats, trailing seagulls and then returning quick sharpish if the swell is too much. And the chatting gig rowers, lugging ‘Prospero’ down to the water’s edge and scooting out, oars in perfect unison until they are dark dots on the horizon. And the dog walkers, clambering over stones and skirting round piles of sludge coloured seaweed, severed tree branches and battered driftwood littering the shoreline.

The best news is that the kiosk has reopened and, despite a gale force wind and rain at a 90-degree angle, I was one of the first to welcome them back. I nearly cried at the sight of their cheerful festoons valiantly lighting up the gloom. Usual service has resumed.

At the weekend, I met my friend Tara at the stoney end of the beach for a bracing walk to mark the midway point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. Half of winter done and the other half yet to go. Which makes me think of a pal’s mum who would have a G&T every evening and when she had finished it she would ask for ‘the other half.’ When two becomes one big one. That’s another way to get through the rest of the bleak season.

Deep in conversation, Tara and I almost missed the new stone installation, a handbuilt spiral inspired by the fossils surrounding it. Apparently a visiting artist, along with a team of local help, created the meditative maze with no fuss, signage or social media hoo-ha. Stumbling on these things is like discovering small treasures. We followed the path of ever decreasing circles into the middle - marked by a driftwood and stone sculpture - before unravelling back to the beginning again. Tara said it felt symbolic and we should return by the light of the snow moon, but I said it would be a bit chilly by then and I wanted to watch Great Pottery Throwdown. Sometimes spirituality has to make way for great telly.

Speaking of which. things I have loved recently and made me feel sparky…

• JoJo Moyes interviewing Dame Jilly Cooper. A chat which has become a beautiful and fitting tribute and includes excellent life advice like ‘snog rather than jog’ and the joy of a house suffused with love.

• A dash of ginger cordial, a squeeze of a chunky wedge of orange, ice, a rosemary sprig (if you can be bothered to go out in the garden) and top it up with soda water.

• The snowdrops which have appeared as if by magic. One day nothing, the next a profusion along the banks of the lanes. And delicate lavender coloured crocus popping up now.

• A tray of eggs from the honesty shed off the coast road. Also selling pumpkin jam and pickled eggs, neither of which I fancied.

• I haven’t loved the loss of the esteemed actress Catherine O’Hara obvs, quite the opposite, but what has been wonderful is to see social media awash with all the people who adored her, from those who worked with her for fifty plus years to those who met her once on Waterloo Bridge. The algorithm has churned them all up for me and it is clear that she was one of those rare and incredible women beloved (not bedeviled, as her character, Moira Rose from Schitt’s Creek was fond of saying). In an interview about her iconic (a word she hated) role, she said she didn’t want to portray a boring rich wife, she wanted to flesh her out with the right wardrobe (she took inspiration from Daphne Guinness), a plethora of wigs (to portray her emotional state) and a made-up language. Voila, a star was born. Interviewed at an awards ceremony and asked which of her many roles she wished to be remembered for, she said simply, ‘mother, to my children.’

• KitKats! Have you seen all the fancy flavours? My top three are dark, hazelnut and mocha. Less interested in orange, white and caramel. And the original is now a disappointment after the excitement of flavours.

  

• My neighbours have strung fairy lights through the branches of their magnolia tree, and they come on at exactly the lowest point of early evening when I am thinking about what to cook for supper and why isn’t it spring yet. I can see them through the kitchen window, which gladdens my tired, old heart!

• Going out early with the dog and then returning with coffee and pastries and getting back into bed (sometimes with India Knight). Weekends only of course. One has to earn a living the rest of the time.

  

• Finished reading Lily King’s Writers and Lovers (recommend) and am now two thirds of the way through Nathan Hill’s Wellness (also recommend) as well as dipping into Hattie Crisell’s In Writing (big recommend if you want to write more or you imagine it may be harder for you than for well-established authors, it’s not). Which reminds me of my lovely friend, Veronica Henry, who when I said I thought I might spend money I didn’t have on a writing course, she said, ‘no, for god’s sake, just write.’ I can’t wait for her new book The Invitation.

• My pal Kate Koepp has a great fledgling Substack and her recent post floored me. She lives in Seattle and has just collected her anti-ICE whistle, pondering where she will keep it and if she will have the courage to use it…

  The whistle noisily alerts the community and creates a scene, something currently not illegal to do here, all in the hopes of protecting families and bodies and loved ones, everyone belongs here. I want to be the best fucking bitch I can be, I want to be brave but I also want to live.

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Impossible to follow this, so here is an accidental selfie, trying to be sparky, even in a storm. Hope the sun comes out asap pdq where you are.