Storm Bella

They weren’t the 50 or 60 mile an hour winds that they predicted, at least they weren’t when I went out. I still had to cling to a wall and a drainpipe when I turned the corner off the Prom but otherwise it was merely blustery. It did blow earlier on, so much so that I had to shut my window. I’m sure it coloured my dreams. I was in my mother’s house in Spain and yet it wasn’t. And a whole host of people were trooping through using it a through-path ostensibly. For some reason I tried to be welcoming thinking that is what she would want and even laid on some food and drink for them. She was present and yet she wasn’t, leaving a plastic bag of food for me. I looked inside and it was all exotic fruits and vegetables, I was bemused and unsure how to cook or indeed eat them. But I appreciated her attempt to please me.

I always read the introductions to novels, do you? I’m reading the one to Austen’s P&P by an academic called Vivien Leigh (?) I think, though it would be remarkable if it was. I’ve enjoyed it. Lots of scholarship and quoting of Mary Wollstonecraft, Hannah More and Burke (sorry I forget his Christian name). It gives the novel a wonderful weighty context. Fascinating.

I felt unwell yesterday afternoon. Surely it wasn’t just my usual non-tea Saturday? I succumbed and dozed in the afternoon instead of working. I feel a little better today and my knee, though bruised, is moving better. What an old codger I sound. Now, to more important things what shall I listen to today?

By Ellen Bell

Artist and writer currently living in Aberystwyth.