Richard Pierce

Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter

Life, Writing

Day 274

A newspaper columnist I much admire most of the time, Marina Hyde of The Guardian, has an article in today’s paper plugging her new book (a collection of her past twice-a-week columns), and she manages to encapsulate what I have been saying of these blogs for a long time: Maybe some columnists are out there imagining they’re writing the first draft of history, but I feel like I’m just sticking a pin in a moment. In fact, I often feel that if I wrote my column in the afternoon, it would say something completely different from whatever I’d ended up writing that morning. “Do you still think this, six years on?” “Oh my God – I probably didn’t even think it by teatime that day.” I’ve had great difficulty in explaining to some people that what I write here doesn’t represent my constant frame of mind; it’s just how I’m being at the time I write it, and I never bother looking back at previous days’ entries (except for checking the ending of the previous Aggie chapter). And most of the time I don’t even think about the consequences of what I write. What that makes me, I don’t know.

M is painting the kitchen. I’ve been ferrying paper for shredding to the garage which I’ve decided to make my shredding room, because paper dust in the office isn’t great. Keeping our minds busy, I suppose, especially mine right now. And A started work at 11 a.m. and doesn’t finish till 01:30 a.m. tomorrow (with a two-hour break at 16:00 ish – I can never remember the exact timing). We did have a moment when I drove her down there – I beeped the car horn for the rail strikers, and they waved back at us, and we waved back, and promptly burst into tears. A happy moment.

I can feel some retail therapy coming on. And I need to work out how to save a lot of electricity.

Later, much much later.

Retail therapy comprised two plastic crates for document storage, five pairs of socks for me, two work shirts for A, and the cheapest food I could find.

Side-tracked by going for a long slow walk along roads and paths that circumnavigate Mousehold Heath. The sun was shining, and the scent of yesterday’s rain clung to the plants and trees, and it was mild enough for me to take off my fourth layer. It felt immensely peaceful. And there was brass music drifting up the hill from down in the city centre. Glorious.

And side-tracked by Strictly. Johannes is such a beautiful man and dancer, but he’s unfortunately been paired with a woman who doesn’t seem to have soul or musicality, which is a great shame. Oh well, we can’t have everything. Let’s be thankful for what we do have.




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