My bruises are coming out nicely now and I find that I have also bashed my shin. The knees are variously blue and purple and the shin is yellow. I don’t think there are any really visible marks on my face though. At least, not yet.
We woke to another brilliant sunshiny day. Mr L put up the new washing line yesterday so the first thing that I did was to strip the bed and get the duvet cover on to wash. Coffee and a brioche followed, to fuel us for a walk in the brisk wind.
I weighed in before my shower. Sunday is my weigh-in day and the fact that I did it may be a nod from my psyche in the direction of truly wanting to get back on the wagon. It is fair to say that this past week was not wholly successful on the fasting front. All the same, my weight is down from last Sunday and on its way back to where it was at the end of January. This has buoyed me up no end. My mind is made up to grasp the dieting nettle once more. Brioche will not have helped, though the walking will. I’ll walk to spinning tomorrow if conditions suit.
Today we had a stroll along Backaskaill Bay.
The tide was out and the Fulmars were in love. I am in my turn in love with the Fulmars and thus I came home with 240 frames shot. It took ages to thin them out. Here’s a few of the ones that made the cut
I believe that I finally have that one perfect frame. See what you think.
Maybe you prefer this one though. I cannot make up my mind.
Walking in good weather here brings about such a feeling of well-being. After all these years I have still not lost that overwhelming sense that sweeps over me when I am out walking the island in the sun. I took flak for it in the early days and some people failed to “get” the things that I said – especially about being in love with this place. I don’t care. I remain defiantly in love with my island and am happier here than I have been any place in my life, ever. Next year I shall be able to celebrate the fact that I have lived here longer than any other place. Sanday is home to me now; the place that I always wish to come back to.
They say that home is where the heart is. Today is Mothering Sunday. I will not be in touch with my mother; it has been almost thirty years since she declared me to be a non-person and no child of hers. When Mr L rang his mother today I experienced a moment of clarity and realised that there is now an absence where the pain used to be. It seems to me that I have been grieving all these years for the parenting that I never had. Now it seems that I have moved out of the Angry phase. There is a sadness but it no longer matters. I think that I may finally be growing up and moving on.
At last I can say “Fuck you, Mother, fuck you…” without the accompanying tears. Up yours, you old bat – I’m now a survivor.