Some people call it vim, or refer to it as get-up-and-go. I’ve lost it. I hope only temporarily. I start my walk and it takes so much effort to move. My legs are unwilling, slow to respond. Is it the cold? Or the fast perhaps? I’m enjoying the simplicity but the morning hunger after just 3 oranges can be yawning. It is good though. I want to know what it is like to make do with less. And then to eat is marvellous. I taste every nuance. Morning comes. Thank god. The winter is beginning to bite and yet those young ones are out there in virtually nothing. I saw one girl in a mini skirt, bare legs and a sleeveless top. Is it alcohol that makes them impervious to the cold? And there am I walking by in a huge winter coat, thick mittens and a woolly hat. We are on a different plane. And they talk so earnestly to each other. A couple were ahead of me as I made my way home. She was in dungarees, one strap hanging loose off her shoulder eating a takeaway burger. He was talking as she ate. Realistically….., he was saying. I didn’t catch the rest. It floats off into the ether. The smell of baking bread from the three town bakeries, namely The Hot Bread Shop, Slater’s and The Pelican Bakery continue to be a source of comfort and pleasure to me. I love to think they are in there creating warmth and succour. And I fantasise about becoming one. One of Slater’s bakers was outside the door when I walked past. A huge man in a black t-shirt, he was looking at his phone and nodded at me. Is it a heavy job? Do they get inured to the pleasurableness of the smells and tastes?

Ho hum. Much work to do. Tea made. Admin done. Must make a start. Speak tomorrow.

By Ellen Bell

Artist and writer currently living in Aberystwyth.