the joy of sitting still

Didn't leave the house all day. Sat and wrote on balcony! Finished Cathedral poem! It's even longer! Watched the sun sink down over Alexandra Palace, behind our three tower blocks. Spied on people walking up and down the road - you can look straight down at the tops of their heads as they go past.

It's so blissfully different from all that dashing about Ms Baroque used to have to undertake on the bus: down to Dalston, navigate the crowds, go around the corner, wait for the 277, take that ("take that!") through Hackney and all the way down to Mile End... however pleasant it was to get a seat, or to (try to) read a book, it could take an hour and a half! That makes potentially a 3-hour commute every day, not even counting the duty visit to Morrisons, and all the heavy bags. (People with cars just don't understand the tyranny of bags.) No wonder all I could ever think about was my next coffee. And oh, the humanity. The buzzing ipods, the swollen-ankled ladies, the gangs of girls with ATTITUDE... the people eating their greasy smelly fried chicken two feet away... & I was once on a bus where the driver was talking on his mobile as he took the turn from Mare St into Amhurst Road, and a lady was paying him at the same time. Yes!

I have to say I'm enjoying just looking at the tops of people's heads, with a nice glass of white wine full of ice cubes.

And I am thanking God I'm not on the Victoria Line in this weather.

Yet.