Would it really be a bank holiday in England without unrelenting rain all day? Maybe not. It was a welcome rain, though, as it forced me to do very little on day one of my maternity leave (which was probably what my body wanted, anyway).
In one of the later-on chapters in Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer takes time and joy in describing her wandering walk through a rainy forest in the Pacific northwest. Having spent sometime in these same temperate rainforests, her words of delight were ringing (or would that be pattering?) in my ears as I took the dog out for a soggy morning walk. He was very unimpressed with the rain, looking up to me mournfully and often as if to say, ‘Why don’t you stop the water falling from the sky? You know I don’t like it.’
Here’s what I could hear:
the white noise of raindrops on my jacket which is waterproof in a kind of aspirational sense
the creak-squeak of the dog’s collar & lead, and his huffing sniffs as he tried to pick out other smells through the dampness
when underneath trees in the park, the occasional plop of accumulated water dripping from the pointy end of the broad, still-spring-young leaves
curiously little traffic (or perhaps not so curious given how early it was on a bank holiday). But when the odd car or municipal vehicle passed, that susurration of rain on asphalt that hasn’t accumulated too many puddles just yet.
no thunder
no wind
no voices except my own chatter with myself & doggo
the squelch of my tennis shoes getting slowly waterlogged in the grass.
While out on my walk I noticed that the neighbour-down-the-street’s fabulously overgrown jasmine had finally burst into flower: my nose saw it before my eyes, as is proper with jasmine. I’m sure it hadn’t bloomed when I walked by yesterday the day before! Since that walk I’ve spotted dozens more jasmine bushes in bloom around the neighbourhood. The scent is divine.
Back at home I began one of my much-procrastinated projects: a book cull. I try to time my periodic clear-outs with moments that I’m feeling particularly fearless, and so less likely to cling to books for a sense of reassurance or comfort. Maybe it’s odd that that fearlessness is the space I’m in now, with weeks or perhaps just days ‘til I give birth, but I’ll take it. Off to new homes, all ye tomes!
Current reads & recommendations
I’m living in Naples in my mind! Currently loving John Brewer’s doorstop of a history book Volcanic: Vesuvius in the Age of Revolutions alongside Carmen Pellegrino’s novel The Earth is Falling (set amongst the ghosts of a mostly deserted village in the hills outside Naples. What can I say — it’s nice to read some fiction & nonfiction about the same part of the world at the same time. To round all that off, I’m slowly watching the latest adaptation (on Netflix) of Patricia Highsmith’s The Talented Mr Ripley with Andrew Scott as the eponymous Ripley. As much as I enjoy the Matt Damon / Jude Law film from the 90s, I do feel like this latter adaptation is doing a fantastic job getting at the sociopathic paranoia of Ripley in a way that Matt Damon & the 90s film struggled to do. Maybe it’s something about this more recent one being shot in black and white and the sound design being really quite naturalistic, with very little in the way of background music to shield you from the cold horror of Ripley’s actions.
Writing life news
Still waiting on final final cover design & publicity blurbs for the new book. In the meantime, I took myself to Choosing Keeping (a.k.a. the most dangerous shop in London for my bank balance) for a new journal. If you are ever in London and wish to experience the utter glory of this stationery shop, it’s tucked around a back corner in Seven Dials and very easy to miss. Look for the sign of the inkwell & quill!