Saturday 9th August - 'you can't just sit in your chair all day'

said the man pushing his rollator along. He had a very uneven gait, like someone pushing a wonky trolley around the supermarket, but with the trolley being fine and the shopper being the wonky one. I admire him greatly; I've watched him lurching along our street almost every day for over a year; I don't know if he's in pain. I hope not.

Today we spoke for the first time; this afternoon I had had a stern word with myself about getting up and going at least as far as the duck pond insteadof slumpingin the settee. He was sitting a bench hearby and came over, clearly curious about my oxygen cylinder.

'You've gotta wear that all the time?' he asked.

'What, until you're gone, whenever that might be?'

'You're lungs bad then or summat?' He thought about my answer to that for a bit.

I liked his directness. He didn't offer sympathy, or commiserations, just absorbed what I said. 

So I felt free to ask about himself. He'd had an accident when he was five, and had to wear a leg brace, and clearly had mobility problems ever since. He was 63, living on his own, with a sister dropping in, helping, fetching his shopping and so on.

'You can't just sit in a chair, can you. That's not a life', he said.

I hugely admire him for his pragmatism, lack of moaning, his acceptance. It's people like him, and my mother, and my grandmother, and some of my friends, all with serious disabilities, who just get on with life without forming a sort of permanent rain cloud of gloom overhead, drenching anyone within range that awe me. They inspire me and encourage me and keep me going.

My grandmother died nearly 50 years ago, my mother nearly 10 years ago - it's not until I do the sums that I realise how long ago that is. 'The Force is strong'; to quote from Star Wars...

The pond is as low as I can remember ('it's been lower,' said rollator man; in true British manner we don't know each other's names...)

You might make out a duck and her ducklings towards the oak tree.

And yet there have been times when the water was so high the island in the middle was all but swamped. The pond is looked after by a community association. There is a small core team, and round about September or October there will be a weekend when you'll see a score or more of enthusiasts of all ages clearing and cutting back and tidying out ready for the next year.

Maybe next year I should 'follow the pond' instead of following a tree month by month. At least I'd have to get out of my chair once a month! I notice that I do feel So Much Better for having that little walk.

Drawing

I downloaded a book for my kindle scribe called 'Tracing Pages, Enchanted Forest' as I wanted some ideas, not only for subjects, but for how to go about drawing them. (The author isn't given a mention...)

I have traced over half of this page. I started just following lines, but then I began to think about how the artist had created the scene; where did they start? How did they do the leaves? Did I like their way? What would I do differently? 

I then turned to a blank page and drew my own version. Not better, not worse, just different.

I've picked up some useful ideas from tracing their drawing, so I'll try it again.

Music

How can anyone not be cheered by this exuberant piano piece? I'm off to see if I have a copy anywhere. I won't be able to play it but I'd like to have a 'dabble'. The secret is to be content with the slo-mo version if that's all you can manage. (Accepting that I was NEVER going to play like a concert pianist if I only practised for a couple of hours a week was key...)

Cécile Chaminade Arabesque Op 61 no 1