Fancy
Yesterday carried on in much the same happy vein as Friday.
I woke at 6, took an hour to clear the debris from the kitchen and then prepared the dough for the first rising. I think I'm starting to learn to use yeast more confidently.
Then I went to a pump class (Yoga was later in the day, so I'll go today instead) and on the way something really strange happened. I got this very strong stab of missing Mum so intensely, that I had to pull over on Hay Street because I was crying too hard. I don't know if it was brought on by the act of making baguettes, or the fact that I know she's with Tusi now, or the fact that I had those old black and whites at work last week, or that I've been using Trieste as my relaxing visualisation tool, or that I was listening to our driving cd from down south. I just very suddenly, and not for a long time felt like a very young girl who wanted her mum. I'm going to call my two generations of Gyorgy women today and get my fix.
Class was excellent, now it hurts to laugh, bend over and generally walk. At home we set off on a domestic frenzy of cleaning (the laundry basket is bare!!!!) and after punching the dough down again I went to the Herdsman (that parking director lady is fabulous), spent more than I should have, and filled the car with the heady scent of truly fresh basil.
Then, onto Floreat, where I joined the library and spent a few dizzying minutes choosing books. I borrowed a Dessaix novel, and a book of poetry from all the Laureates in the UK, one about using your dslr, one about Soo Kyi and a little book of wine tasting, oh and a book by Clive James, remembering way back in Corio those days when the three of us would still sit down and watch telly together. And it gave me shivers to think that I could sit at home guiltlessly, and read whatever I wanted.
Then Coles and home to shape the loaves and make the peach and yoghurt slice for dessert. We were almost ready on time, but I think the extra 20 minutes we had to wait for the peach thing were worth it.
We had a beautiful (an denormous) dinner with CS and KS and their lovely daughter (who paints!). Most importantly I think B felt good with them, and if work doesn't get in the way, fishing may be an option next Sunday for him. It was a night of laughter, and that was even better than the wine to me. Now my face hurts as well as my tummy muscles, but it's a good pain.
I slept through till six again, I've had my mug of Paul, the eggplant is baking in the oven for the dip, and I have a full day of freedom ahead of me!
...
"Every March since they have lifted again
out of the same bulbs, the same
baby-cries from the thaw
ballerinas too early for music, shiverers
in the draughty wings of the year
On that same groundswell of memory, fluttering
they return to forget you stooping there
behind the rainy curtains of a dark april
snipping their stems"
Hughes, Daffodils
I woke at 6, took an hour to clear the debris from the kitchen and then prepared the dough for the first rising. I think I'm starting to learn to use yeast more confidently.
Then I went to a pump class (Yoga was later in the day, so I'll go today instead) and on the way something really strange happened. I got this very strong stab of missing Mum so intensely, that I had to pull over on Hay Street because I was crying too hard. I don't know if it was brought on by the act of making baguettes, or the fact that I know she's with Tusi now, or the fact that I had those old black and whites at work last week, or that I've been using Trieste as my relaxing visualisation tool, or that I was listening to our driving cd from down south. I just very suddenly, and not for a long time felt like a very young girl who wanted her mum. I'm going to call my two generations of Gyorgy women today and get my fix.
Class was excellent, now it hurts to laugh, bend over and generally walk. At home we set off on a domestic frenzy of cleaning (the laundry basket is bare!!!!) and after punching the dough down again I went to the Herdsman (that parking director lady is fabulous), spent more than I should have, and filled the car with the heady scent of truly fresh basil.
Then, onto Floreat, where I joined the library and spent a few dizzying minutes choosing books. I borrowed a Dessaix novel, and a book of poetry from all the Laureates in the UK, one about using your dslr, one about Soo Kyi and a little book of wine tasting, oh and a book by Clive James, remembering way back in Corio those days when the three of us would still sit down and watch telly together. And it gave me shivers to think that I could sit at home guiltlessly, and read whatever I wanted.
Then Coles and home to shape the loaves and make the peach and yoghurt slice for dessert. We were almost ready on time, but I think the extra 20 minutes we had to wait for the peach thing were worth it.
We had a beautiful (an denormous) dinner with CS and KS and their lovely daughter (who paints!). Most importantly I think B felt good with them, and if work doesn't get in the way, fishing may be an option next Sunday for him. It was a night of laughter, and that was even better than the wine to me. Now my face hurts as well as my tummy muscles, but it's a good pain.
I slept through till six again, I've had my mug of Paul, the eggplant is baking in the oven for the dip, and I have a full day of freedom ahead of me!
...
"Every March since they have lifted again
out of the same bulbs, the same
baby-cries from the thaw
ballerinas too early for music, shiverers
in the draughty wings of the year
On that same groundswell of memory, fluttering
they return to forget you stooping there
behind the rainy curtains of a dark april
snipping their stems"
Hughes, Daffodils
posted by BanAnna at 10/24/2009 03:42:00 pm
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