New Tricks

Can an old dog learn them? His house was amazing, a warren of alcoves, cubby holes and with every space on the wall consumed with art. I loved it. And he, though reticent, felt like a good man. And I’m to do the editing. I hadn’t realised. It freaked me at first. No, he said, you’ll be doing that. Outside the rained poured while inside, with my belly warmed by tea, I smiled. It is going to be OK, it is going to be exciting. This is something new, I thought, daunting, scary, but new. And I will be working with sound. Finally.

I walked the whole length of the Prom this morning, the first time in ages. And I thought of him. It’s been 24 years. He has been in my life for 24 years. What a treasure. What a joy. What a gorgeous man. You see there is wonder, there are gifts. And there were two yesterday, one small one larger than I expected. It will be well. Work now before I call her. The sun is out. The sea was lapping. Enough. Tea. Then write, though how I can capture her god alone knows. She is quicksilver.

And if they starve us out I shall fast. You see. It’s OK. I promise.

By Ellen Bell

Artist and writer currently living in Aberystwyth.