My original title for this post had been 101: Island in the Sun, intended, ingeniously, to draw attention to its being my 101st post. Idleness and mood drifts pushed it to 102, so, Weezer, Albert Hammond Jr, you didn't get to tenuously be alluded to in a blog title of mine, apologies, dry your tears in all this sunshine!
|waiting for mother to make-up, I made a weird little self-portrait..|
On our first weekday on the island I had planned to visit Ciutadella (accessible to me by one 30 minute journey to the island's capital (since successive French and British occupations) Mahon, and a further hour long journey to the old (time of the Moorish occupation) capital, both by bus). Due to the travelling, the heat, and my intended itinerary of wandering around and seeing what was there, I'd originally expected to be going alone. My mother's mother isn't all too fond of heat and working full time still, aged seventy, being on her feet all day probably wasn't ideal holiday activity. My mother too enjoys reading and relaxing as she doesn't get an awful lot of time to at home (work, house work, etc.,). We agreed though, that if it became too tiresome, hot, whatever, everyone was free to find a shady place to have a drink and a sit down, regardless of the others. With this concession in mind, three generations boarded the bus! tres billetes por favor, señor!
|Mahon, all aboard the blue-hue!|
|The Eagles land!|
These following are a sequential (chronologically correct) series of photos from our day in Ciutadella. Once again I've no credible idea why it's taken me so many months to put these images here for viewing, nor do I know why I feel it so important that I should have, so much so some days it's weighed on my mind. I'm up and down. I'm trying to fight my body's urges to not do anything apart from eat pasta in bed watching comedy panel shows on youtube (in my defence, this particular series is chaired by David Mitchell and one of the team captains is Richard Ayoade, dream-team!!.. Ahem..). I feel energised at night, well, capable of completing simple tasks at least, but I know it's better for my mental health to have a routine, sensible waking hours, daylight, conversations with other humans... I've no doubt you know this well faithful reader, the self-destructive body "I want sugar today" "My love aside, I don't want to see her/him/them right now", "let's stay awake all night, peace, solitude, darkness, yess!" NO, let's finish this and go to bed... I suppose what I mean is, I'm always struggling with this back and forth, I know what to do myself to have the best chance of some mental stability (in the face of extraneous and existential pressures), eat, sleep, shower, speak, dance, love, run, laugh, share etc., etc., you know how hard it is though, right? I should have my best shot right now, in theory, without the stress of a horrendous job, not having to worry about keeping a roof over my head (because my folks still love me an' all) ... Looking for work is always a cause for stress, and attempting to embark on a new regimen of veg salads veg and daily running seems so foolish and hellish in the icy drizzly winter... I should blend it all into hot soup. I should clear a little space and do some indoor dancing. I should not make the mistake of taking the first awful job that comes up (Amazon again?! NO!) just to avoid the weekly visit to the jobcentre and that long wait of feeling like time-wasting scum. I should speak to friends more than once a week.
Finally, I should stop putting off sorting through photographs, even if they never end up anywhere but in a different folder, the act, effectively, reminds of better times. I look at some of these and my heart leaps. I've seen some beautiful places, with some wonderful people, I shouldn't forget about them just because I'm physically absent. Those times happened, those places and I, were. Weren't we beautiful.
|Those paprika and patatas!|
|Post lunch walk, cool clean streets...|
|The first of many...|
|pretty much fell in love with all these little back street touches|
|Pious Scientist Atheist Post-Mistress|
|(my mother's name is Elizabeth...it is amusing)|
|Granny made an impression on the waiter :D|
|Olympus fancypants DSLR|
|Back home, aaah..|