The Midsummer weekend here has been "up and down" with a mix of sun, rain and thunder, and varying degrees of humidity. In my neighbourhood, quite a few people besides myself seem to have been spending it at home; which in turn means it tends to get noisy, especially in the afternoons and evenings, with all the windows and balcony doors kept open because of the heat, people talking, and kids out playing etc.
I find a bit hard to cope with the afternoons sometimes, as in hot summer weather that's neither the best time of day for me to be out, nor to stay in - and I can't really think of a third alternative! (And of course, this year, the corona situation adds to the frustration for everyone.) On the other hand, the morning seems the best time for me for anything and everything from sleeping in, being lazy, reading, going out, sitting on the balcony (before the sun hits) - and for cleaning and cooking and doing computer work etc indoors. As I'm not exactly an early bird by nature to begin with, that means my active time of day is rather limited (between late breakfast and lunch!) And the rest... Phew, well, never mind! (Today I managed to fit in a nice nap while heavy rain was drumming away on my windows, though. And with the rain, no need to keep thinking that perhaps I should be out instead...)
This morning (seems like a long time ago now), I woke up with fragments of a dream lingering in my head - and thought I might blog about that later. Now is later, but of course now, my vague recollections of the dream seem even more fragmentary and blurry. Copying the photo of the bird houses from my camera to the computer reminded me of it again, though, because I know it was all somehow to do with "home" - and including some feelings of frustration. However, I can't really recapture the dream itself now, and only vaguely some of my thoughts while thinking about it back in the morning.
For one thing, the audio book I'm listening to at the moment is Coming Home by Rosamunde Pilcher. It's a 'coming of age' story set in Cornwall before and during WWII. A young girl (Judith) is left behind at a British boarding school while her mother and baby sister go to Singapore to join the father working there. The war means Judith cannot travel to visit or join them later as intended either. She had two aunts in Britain but her main substitute family becomes that of a classmate of hers, living on a big estate. I haven't finished the book yet (it's a long one - 40 hours as audio!) so not sure yet where it will end. Sometimes I'm finding it a bit long-winded, but here and there it does make interesting points - like about family, friends and what else equals "home" to us, but also how we are affected by various crises, both on personal and national level (like the War, back then - and, reading it just now, also bringing to mind the pandemic which is now the Enemy to all of us, where ever we happen to live).
I know that this morning, I also had more thoughts in my head connecting to this, but now I can't recreate them. I think some were probably to do with other people's blogs I'd been reading, too. I think a lot of us have been struggling a bit extra with coming up with ideas to blog about while being ''@home" more than usual this spring! Alas, it seems that having time on our hands does not necessarily mean also feeling inspired and creative...
12 comments:
I find that I can only recall dreams well right afterward. The passing of even a bit of time just erases the details. WHAT is that gorgeous flower you posted on Facebook?
I am just like Jenny and only remember dreams when I first wake up and I can remember them better if I tell it to Bob as soon as I wake up but most of the time it's just vague like yours! I can only imagine how bad it is with all those people in the apartment because I remember in the summertime sometimes when it's not too hot and it's not too cold and it's and the windows are up I can hear the neighbors and it drives me crazy. I told Bob that I like having the windows open when it's good weather but the noise drives me crazy
Often, I write an entire blog post in my mind - but never really do it, because the thinking happens while I am on the train or elsewhere without occasion or inclination to type on the phone which is just not doable for my eyes.
Like you, I suffer noisy neighbours - and also a couple of quiet ones who just sit on their patio smoking, right underneath my living room windows... they were one reason for my room swap a few years ago.
Ginny, yes, my experience from the past is that it's best to write them down immediately if one really wants to try and catch them. (And it can be hard enough even then.) In this case, I felt that being able to connect it to some things I'd read and thought about recently was enough.
Sandra, it's a good thing I know you're probably dictating your comments rather than typing them at the moment, or else I'd be wondering which 'Jenny', for a start! ;) Yep, hearing too much of my neighbours drives me crazy, too. I find it very hard to concentrate, when that happens. In winter, with doors and windows closed, it's not usually a big problem - but in summer, it's a different world.
Meike, I too often 'write' a lot in my head which never even gets typed in the end... ;) And yes, I sometimes get the smoke problem as well. Luckily I have my bedroom on the side of the house with no balconies. I'm glad I made that choice right from the beginning. It's small, but also the most quiet room in the flat.
She's one of my favourite authors, I think I've read that one, I"m about to read another one of her's named "September"
That Coming Home book sounds interesting, I am reading a book which has a lot about London and the Blitz during WWII, that period fascinates me. Imagine being stuck in England as a child during the war. Yes, it is hard to be creative with my blog sometimes as I am pretty much stuck at home.
I really enjoyed this post. I have read that the isolation affects our memories. I know this is true for me as, after weeks and weeks, I am remembering incidents long forgotten. Some good. Some causing lots of careful thinking. At least I still have those memories and dementia has not buried them forever.
I will look for that novel in the library. It sounds interesting. My sister was at boarding school when Dad went away to war, then spending three years in Changi and on the Burma railway. Colleen often went home with the other students during the school holidays. The families were incredibly kind.
Amy, I've finished it now. Somehow it rather felt like reading a TV-series (of the kind that runs for several seasons). Made rather good "bedtime" reading... (meaning, not too dramatic) I might try another some time.
Terra, I've been reading a lot about that period as well - ever since childhood, really. My parents grew up during the war years, and when visiting my grandfather's I used to read her (and her younger sister's) old books.
Louise, in Sweden boarding schools for young children are rare and I don't think I've met many people who went to one. But I've read countless British books with that background all through my life, I think!
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