18 Dec 2016

Day 3, holidays

Dalebrook is a lovely spot. Big shallow tidal pool, with lots of white-painted rocks, few sea urchins to prick the feet but still plenty of seaweed,small fish and the odd starfish. The crowd sports a higher quotient of tattoos than some pools, I'd guess, but there were quite a few children and not many tourists, judging by accents.

We spent a couple of hours there this morning with an old friend we don't see much because he's often in Joburg for work for weeks on end. And because his personal life is sometimes a bit challenging.

We stopped by his house, which we hope to stay in later this holidays while he's away. It's a bach pad, no doubt, but also very expressive. There are artworks by friends, lots of big framed landscape photos, whale vertebrae 3 feet long, three surfboards and a red wetsuit, books in piles on chairs, and a drawing space where the light is best. I am envious of this and admiring at the same time. It's clear it's in use.

I have a study of a sort, claimed when the children moved downstairs into a bigger bedroom. I even had it painted. But nothing goes on there, certainly no writing. The light is bad. I moved the little desk out and into our bedroom where the surface was quickly covered by two mostly non-functioning typewriters and a collection of other odds and ends.

So now I have a study without a writing table, but filled with detritus from other parts of the house. Stuff that drags at me when I'm there, rather than a blank canvas.

Nothing to stop me changing that, of course, other than a tendency to procrastinate. To wait for the spirit to move me, and for everything else to be tidy and to feel right. No surprises that so far the wait's been long.

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