He couldn’t sleep last night. I’ve just looked out of the window, he said, coming into my bathroom, there’s a big moon out there.
Is it waning now? It’s seemed big and round for days now. Is it a Harvest Moon? he asked at breakfast. I don’t know. I don’t know anything about such things and I feel like I should. I love it. I love seeing it light up my studio first thing in the morning with that rather eerie silvery light. And when I walk down St David’s Road as I begin my walk the houses on the right hand side are shining in its light I feel uplifted, raised out of the darkness and unafraid.
The students are losing steam, I remarked to him at breakfast. Or so it appears. The clubs are still open each night but there is less noise, less clamour. I mean you can’t drink yourself silly night after night for ever can you? The last few mornings Pizza Time on Northgate Street has still been open as I walked past. Today a man was moping the floor. Who goes all the way there for a pizza? Is it the ones who live up Penglais Hill? Is there enough trade? So many shops open and then close within the year here. I am cheered by the entrepreneurial spirit but saddened when it can’t stay the course. I tweeted about Crimson Rhino but no one responded. Is it not missed, even a little bit? I thought that their idea of a game night where people could play Scrabble, Chess and Draughts together was lovely. Did it work? Its a ramshackle street, Northgate Street, at the best of times. It need some love. CR was a bright spot. As is the Pelican Bakery, long may it last.
The Perygyl was lit by the moon this morning. I caught my breath, absorbed as I had been in listening to my footsteps on the wooden slats. A body. A body lying on one of the benches. A homeless man in woolly hat and walking boots. Was he asleep? I kept on walking and stood at the end looking out to sea as is my wont. When I walked back he had gone. Had I imagined it? I’d felt uncomfortable knowing he was there. I like my solitude there, I value it. Where had he gone? I walked warily until I was up by the Castle. Bodies walked around in the shadows. Music thumped from inside The Angel. How do they sleep in the newsagent next door? Poor loves. A door opened from a house along the main road. A clanging. A boy almost fell out. Then bashed against the window. He couldn’t stand up straight. Gone. Don’t get involved, I hear him say. Leave him. A huddle of students stood in a cluster further along the pavement. They were laughing. Something about Mark the Raper. Is that really what she said? They looked so young, so gauche. Eager to make friends, to belong. So long ago.
He woke me with his text. And I lay awake afterwards fretting and trying not to. I have to accept. Accept what is. Let loose. Let go. It will be what it will be. He is a good man. Kind and gentle. I bear him no grudges. His abundance is not mine and vice versa. It will come. And besides do I really want it? Wouldn’t I rather be doing something soulful, using my skills? Absolutely.
Have I told you lately how much I love you?