Good Grief 352

I don’t know if you did this at school, but we had wooden desks and during our music class our music teacher, who was either inspired, or fed up of children, would get us to rest our heads on our arms on the desk and get us to listen quietly to a piece of music. We were left and allowed to rest or let our minds and imaginations wander at will.

I couldn’t photograph this act today but this is what I did when I eventually got into my cell at work. Whilst my friend was here the car got noisier and she sent a video recording of the noise to her husband. His response was along the lines of, ‘shouldn’t be driving that’. All of this on the back of thinking how well organised I’d been getting my MOT sorted last week and fitting it in with work logistics that weren’t disruptive to appointments. So, the stress of the journeys over the last two days, the uncertain mechanics, trying not to cancel fully booked days, finding a new garage, a route to get me to work on time and a head torch to find my way back when I finish, focusing on the day in hand and all of it on the back of a generalised non-specific slump.

My head rested here for a few minutes before getting going. I looked at my ring and thought how different it would all be if he were here. And then I remembered how I would sit like this in those music classes and imagine whole stories and landscapes as I listened to the music. Of course, I didn’t know then that I would be doing this in my fifties and that there was a bit of future planning in the making going on, by way of seeking out something, anything, and working with what we can of our internal landscapes.
And then it was time to get on with the day.