Postcard from the edge of Freuchie

impossible songs



impossible songs
A bit of a day in Freuchie

Random events and notions:
Waiting on a delivery from John Lewis
And reading a newspaper
Wondering if the clouds are friendly or full of snow
And where they will go later
Hinges without doors and handles still not fitted
Horses standing stiff and chewing in the field opposite in grey cold
So will I look out of this window in ten years time and if so who will I be by then?
Shifting circumstances and chances that led me to today
Waiting on a delivery
Typing with two fingers to log these slow words
No New York diary or glamorous location today but..
Just still and noiseless with whispering traffic
Trapped in potential living space.
Buddha is hidden in a cupboard incase he offends workmen
And visitors who may not share our legatorial beliefs.
His eyes seen only the closing door and a thin shaft of occasional daylight
His is a secret tribute to the world’s religions and the many meaningless pursuits that surround them.
Bags of plaster
Drinking a mug of soup because it still is January around here
Neighbors are possessive about their car parking spaces no doubt and harbor many puzzled thoughts about the threats we pose for them.
Outsiders
Old gentlemen in their winter hats walk dogs
Funny noises emerge from a lazy central heating system that is unsure of how to react to a human presence in the house as the system slowly warms.
Friendly drafts sneak in for chilly conversations with ankles and fingertips,
Then the retreat to the warmth and are absorbed into the smell of fresh paint.
Will we retire here and vegetate over some mutated internet and look out onto the fields and hills with reluctant bones and aches and things that make movement difficult?
A wee walk to the shop for some essentials and a delivery from Tesco every Thursday.
People make incorrect assumptions about you once you are over fifty, then again they do that anyway regardless of your age.
The friendly joiner drops by with many keys for a door that as yet is not attached to any house – remarkable.
The neighbor cut the grass one time, it has stayed short as a reminder, now we must walk upon egg shells and grass clippings until we know them better and they know that we are reasonable people who pose no threat. Human relations are very often quit ridiculous and for no reason. Are we North or South Korea in this relationship? How far are any of us ever from burning cars or building barricades, drawing lines in the sand and putting up posters to remind the others that this tiny space is ours? Anyway none of that for the time being.
It’s nearly lunch time but I’m not hungry, the Maca is working already.
The furniture delivery men arrive at 1215. After much scratching of heads, puffing and sweating and hard labour (due to the tight staircase) the large brown boxes and beds are checked and upstairs awaiting assembly some time in the future.
Time to go home.