Laugh a little, cry a little...

Do you write in your journal to defuse, to record things of emotional meaning? Are your words for anyone to read in the future? Do you laugh a little, cry a little as you write? Is your journal filled with secrets? Ah, segreta… a word that just longs to be whispered, that entices one on an adventure.

I went to the bookshop this week (Fullers, Hobart, an independent bookshop… with café) to buy a birthday present for my grandson. Having found him a book on dinosaurs that weighs a ton, I wandered. A whole table was devoted to a swathe of Japanese books from cooking and Ikebana to delightful and poignant stories, haiku, philosophy and lifestyle. So many pleasures that I found it difficult the choose. But this little volume came home:

An extraordinary book based on the daily journal of Tetsuyo, who at the time of the book’s publication was 102. As I drift into the half light of the World-of-Almost-Awake, I wish this perfect little woman was my neighbour. She delivers pearls of wisdom of such simplicity that it’s impossible not to love her.

Of course, I may be confusing Tetsuyo with another old woman from My Grandmother Sends Her Regards and Apologises by Fredric Backman. This grandmother actually invented the World-of-Almost-Awake and as I listen to it in audio, I laugh a little, cry a little and have the feeling that this too could be a keeper for the shelves if I had a hard copy. It’s a book that is made for audio – as if one is having fairytales and battles of good and evil related as one sinks into sleep. Elsa’s grandmother is such a multi-faceted character and we learn about her darkness and light as the adult story progresses. So beautifully done.

I wish I was like Tetsuyo and Elsa’s grandmother – so much joy, so much imagination, so much natural grit. I also think what serendipity after last week’s chat on aging that these books came to my notice. Fate does have its way.

In my own writing life, the first of the missing novels in The Chronicles of Eirie arrive via email, formatted and ready for proofing. The e-covers have been extended to make wrap covers and have the required blurbs and reviews on the back. Whilst I’m thrilled with Jane Dixon-Smith’s fabulous work, I read, I check, and read my words again but am never confident. A week of words it has been, with one file after another. And then I begin to wonder if I should start marketing the series all over again. (Oh Lord!)

Other Things:

Remember the burned red Puffa jacket I ordered? It was huge, not at all burned red but an ugly wine colour which was so not me, so has been returned. His blue Puffa is of course perfect because he seems to have the right frame for anything, and everything always fits. His sweater is lovely, but mine is a touch big. So being the hobbit I am, I just tuck the length into my jeans, and it keeps me warm on the coast.

The thing is, I’m over winter clothes and ooh and aah over summer style in the Northern Hemisphere. All those lovely Chelsea/Wimbledon florals, broderies and linens. Not long ago, the most beautiful M&S soft yellow shirt appeared in my email, and I knew it was ‘me’. But I dillied and dallied and when I went to purchase it last weekend, my size had of course gone! As far as clothes go, I’m a procrastinator and was a lot put out by my lack until I remembered this delightful story told by David Michie

One of (Geshe La’s) most devoted students, cooking lunch for over 100 retreatants, was looking distressed in the kitchen when Geshe-la stopped by and asked if there was a problem. “We’re doing vegetable tagine and I’ve just found we have no lemon!” explained the student. Geshe-la needed little time to consider this before shrugging. “No lemon,” he said in his Tibetan English, “death not happening.”

Now, when Husband or self are inclined to whinge and moan, we say to each other: ‘No lemon, death not happening.’ And burst into laughter.

Anyway, when all’s said and done, I’m not a pretty picture this week. Five stitches as another skin cancer is removed, very close to where the squamous cell carcinoma was in 2023. Like my parents, this is the story of life in the outdoors before sun-protection was really heard of. It’s a little painful but I’ve had worse and it’s smeared with vaseline to stop it pulling. The incision looks as if it sits right in one of my many leylines. Another scar that tells a story of a life well-lived.

Finally, just before I began writing this, he, the Womble and I walked. Heaven…

And so…music?

Oh this!

because of its lyrics. ‘Win a little, lose a little’, ‘laugh a little, cry a little…’

It’s my favourite movie of all time. I often watch the inimitable Katharine Hepburn in this movie and note her tremor, particularly as she watches Spencer Tracy. The emotional drain for her was enormous we now know, as Tracy was very ill and it would be scant days that he lived after the movie wrapped. Hepburn’s condition is called Essential Tremor and I was diagnosed with it when I was 40. Many assume one has Parkinsons Disease when they see it but no, it’s just Essential Tremor, a nuisance neurological condition. If it’s annoying me, I always think of wonderful ‘Katharine with a K’. It makes me feel better to be amongst such excellence…