Catriona Young one of the presenters on Radio 3’s Through the Night played Shubert’s song, which I believe (I don’t know any German) means of water you sing. It prompted me to think about water as I walked by the sea this morning, the rythmic noise of it, the weight and crash of it. Though not today. Today it was calm. The Prom has been swept and I managed to hoik my legs up to kick the bar. The moon, though not yet full, shone white across the stretch of ocean. The air felt still, despite the gentle wind. And there was no one about, other than the man sleeping in the Prom shelter, his belonging all bagged-up on the bench beside his recumbent body. It’s a private time for me. I like it and need it, even if getting myself out there is more problematic than it used to be. I think about those I love and the strangers I feel such compassion for, a feeling I often am at a loss to know what to do with. I am tired this morning and my back is still horny with tension. It will fall away, eventually.
