clouds

We - two clouded folk, fugged and fuming - have emerged from a two-day growl back into the world. Just in time, thankfully, to hear the shepherd’s bells and see the huddle of sheep bottoms nodding down the lane.
Julian has been working on his website in the only warm room with a telephone connection – the kitchen. Even without the frost of an unresolved argument, this is often a very frustrating process to be around. It involves hours of staring at the screen with furrowed brow and clenched teeth, only to shriek at the occasional triumph of a line appearing or disappearing or a change of dot colour, or a move from comic sans to apple gothic font. I, pottering around trying to enjoy my days off in our home, am shut out until I am called upon to respond ecstatically to such barely perceptible changes.
The question: Should I ask my friends to whom I have given 5 free tickets if they would like to contribute to the collection the singers are making for the victims of the Tsunami?
The argument: Global versus local perspectives on charity; A talker and a loner; One person from a small broken family needing attention and one from a large happy family needing space….
The answer: There is no answer, just listening and time.
Fifty percent of the musician couples I know, many in marriages I have looked to for inspiration, are separating. When it feels like I am falling too I hold on to the fact that Julian is at home when I am; that when we are we talk; that he isn’t (and does not desire to be) on tour immersed in music, made and therefore so easily confused with love, in Paris and Venice with all the beautiful people…and I swim energetically back to shore.
When I get there, there are treats: Val has said yes to a big still life commission, there is fizz in the fridge, Oscar, drugged up to his eyeballs on cinnamon, spent the morning sniffing in my drawer full of large pants and is divine, Manon caught two voles and a feather, Julian’s site is finally up-ish, and there’s couscous for dinner.