Breakfast table book*

 

 

"Over the years Lucian's breakfast varied from pains au raisin to porridge to scrambled egg and toast, Sally and David always wanting to make sure he ate sufficiently and healthily, as he had a very sweet tooth. Lucian would often take a bar of home-made nougat from the shop's shelves as he walked in, sometimes jokingly slipping it into his pocket like a shoplifter. With a murderously sharp black-handled kitchen knife, he would slice it bit by bit, offering up slivers." 

(Greig, Geordie: Breakfast with Lucian, Farrar, Straus and Giroux, New York 2013, p.4)

While Breakfast with Lucian (a birthday present and perfect companion to this) is, of course, about so much more than what Lucian Freud used to have for breakfast, I admit that I am almost obsessively interested in these glimpses into people's habits and choices and the minutiae of everyday life. The internet may be awash with look-at-what-I-had-for-lunch-type photos and blog posts and facebook updates, and a certain cynicism has evolved in response to this, but both in fiction and non-fiction I am always pleased to see references to food or other domestic routines.

P.S.: My own breakfast varies, but my breakfast table tends to include multiple beverages, blueberries and coconut oil (the latter on toast and in coffee), and occasionally there is cava and roses - keeping the tradition of the Sektfrühstück going!

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*I did not actually read the book while having breakfast - mindfulness and all...

Tranquility

 

The response to what I pondered in my last post is shingles in my eye and a kidney infection. That's what I got for a lifestyle and tempo of said lifestyle this introvert was unable to maintain for long. Or maybe it had nothing to do with that, but was a delayed reaction to the upheaval of recent months. Whatever the reason, I obviously need to remind myself that one day every week must be a blank in my diary set aside for doing nothing (doing nothing may include reading, running, swimming, meditating, baking, cooking, organising and a whole lot of other doings, but I have to be on my own for most of it or in the company of someone similarly disposed).

I managed to continue with the teaching, as well as going on -relaxed, inspiring- day trips to beautiful corners of the world, so today was the first day I was able to work from home and take it easy. Stillness is in order, and it is easy to attain in a house filled with beautiful flowers, among them the sweet scent of hyacinths, and with my own little assistant-sister who just made me dinner.

As a soap bar enthusiast I always get ridiculously excited when I try out a new one, and this Brigid Soap with its intriguing ingredients is extra special because it was a gift from my older sister, who presented it to me in Brigit's Garden, with a touching explanation of why she had chosen it. My aura expertly cleared after using this in the shower, I am now sipping tea made with cayenne pepper and lemon and envisaging a wild Friday night bedtime of 8pm. This is exactly how I used to live.

Shades of pink

Early morning swim

 Easter baking

 Tiny sketch attempting to capture early morning light during swim

 Bouquet drying

 

Stopping to say hello to all my neighbours during a run with my sister

This must have been my longest absence here so far. A lot has happened since my last post, and maybe even more has not happened. I tend to be cryptic about these things here, but I will say that being dumped for the second time by the same person within 20 months is tough, even if it was always going to be a lurking possibility after getting back together. This time I am more resilient (it took two weeks of hell, and the turning point surprised me, as I saw months of the same ahead. So, as a good friend said, "more painful, but shorter". Everyone was so supportive, and I realised once again how blessed I am with the people in my life - I owe them all big time).

As the cliché goes, a lot of good came out of it all, some of it still so new and strange I hesitate to believe it. I am now trying to catch up on sleep lost to tormenting thoughts waking me between (always) 2 and 3am, going back to running and swimming in the cold cold sea - the latter is so much easier at 6am when you are not fully awake yet than during the day. I am still reading Tara Brach and doing lots of things I haven't done in years, saying yes to possibly too many of them (no drugs, Mama!), and the HSP/introvert me will surely protest very soon, but so far it's all good and all change.

Usually I like to keep my weekends mostly unstructured and need a lot of time alone, but now there are so many plans (and people!), and my calendar is beginning to resemble that of an outgoing bundle of energy, a term that looks completely alien to me as I type it. On Monday I am going to an event in the Hungarian Embassy, and it is these kind of out-of-my-comfort-zone happenings that are making me excited about what lies ahead and rewiring my brain no doubt. My financial worries haven't magically dissolved, and I need to get my act together very soon to be able to support myself and my plans for the future and go back to that endless To Do list, but I am less terrified of what seemed to be insurmountable obstacles only a short while ago.

Saturday morning, Craughwell

 

Branwell after his shower (he likes to stick his head under the running tap - he is more of a dog, really)

 Bog cotton

 

Sheep bookcase and cat

Spring laundry stripes

 His placemat

Excuse the disproportionate amount of cat pictures here. Like a pregnant or new-mom blogger whose blog content suddenly becomes 98% baby-related, my brain has seized upon a kitten named Branwell, and he's not even mine!

He went missing a couple of weeks ago, but came home after three nights, just in time for my sister's birthday (half an hour before midnight - Anke and Adrian were about to retire to bed when they heard a familiar meow!).

This is a special time for us, as our younger sister is visiting for three months. We have so many plans, but so far we have mostly been talking about our exciting plans, so it's high time for the doing, although this long weekend is reserved for fun and the recharging of batteries, after a hectic two months. Last night we all stayed at Anke and Adrian's house, and the weekend feels like a holiday already. Adrian made us amazing milky coffees from scratch - grinding the fancy coffee beans, foaming the milk. I rarely order coffee, as it makes me shaky and panicky, but prepared-at-home tends to be fine/milder, and Adrian's is perfection.

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Other little things that have been accompanying this month:

Listening to "Bloodbuzz Ohio" by The National (a slightly different live version, a bonus track on the album) on loop

Drinking fresh thyme tea, nettle tea and matcha tea and eating wild garlic (on top of brie on toast - the best combination!) and micro vegetables such as pea shoots grown as per James Wong's instructions - all the green things

Smelling kitty breath and kitten paws - I had to end this post with one more cat reference!

 

Book launch

We had our book launch for Jumbo Wants to be a Hippo a couple of weeks ago. I have only had intermittent internet access since, hence the delay. It is acting up as I type, so I will keep this short.

Lionel and I talked about how the story and the collaboration developed, and he read an excerpt. We also listened to the wonderful song "Mud, Mud, Glorious Mud", which features in the book, and had tea and cake. It was such a fun event, and a warm, cosy atmosphere. Video to follow!

Small world

 Café dog

I finished Staring at Lakes recently, and it was a strange experience reading a book that mentions so many places I have been to, like Jampa Ling, the Buddhist retreat, and Galway restaurants. People I have met and people I know are in this book (including a reference to a street performer who is my friend and colleague).

Coming from a country with a population of over 80 million it still sometimes startles me how small Ireland is. Everything and everyone is connected and interwoven.

I was reminded of this when Nelson Mandela died and someone sent me this video of him dancing with the former president of the University I work at (who always chats to me when I bump into him, as he does with everyone) when Mandela received his honorary degree.

The man who is now President of Ireland opened a couple of group exhibitions I was in years ago and said nice things about my drawings. As Matt would say (putting on an indignant German accent), "This would never happen in Germany".

There are times this small-community feeling can feel a bit too constrictive and I crave the anonymity of a big city. Matt, who has spent most of his life in cities, always makes sure he never gets to know his neighbours, and there have been occasions I wished the people in my vicinity didn't know all my business. But two of my neighbours are also friends, and it makes me feel more at home.

I am guilty of ducking into shops or avoiding an aisle in the supermarket when I cannot be bothered to engage in small talk with someone I only know superficially (the Irish 'gift of the gab' eludes me - I am too much of an introvert and awkward and never know how to end a conversation smoothly, leading to overwhelm at the checkout as I am acutely aware of the person queueing behind me while I try to to respond to the witty banter of the checkout guy - and fail miserably).

But then there are so many positives. Recently at one of our events there were several of my favourite people in one room along with acquaintances whom I might not know intimately but whose company I enjoy (and in a parallel life we would all be one big family!). Walking down the street you get swept into impromptu tea-drinking because there will always be a familiar face somewhere. I like that spontaneity and leisurely pace; it is evocative of an era before mobile phones (though I do prefer when people announce their visit rather than just turn up at my door...).

Visiting the kitten, poetry and a beautiful memoir

Juxtaposing completely unrelated things, as I am wont to do here on occasion: 

|  Branwell is growing so fast, or at least it seems like that to me, as I only see him every two weeks or so. He is at the stage where the shape of his head is trying to keep up with the growth of his features, and he has the cutest long nose. He is more like a dog in character, following you around in outbursts of enthusiasm, not afraid of water and generally a loyal, attention-seeking companion.

|  The third Skylight 47 issue is out, and I am delighted to have one of my paintings in it. If you like poetry (I certainly do), you will love Skylight 47.

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I am also reading Staring at Lakes by the Irish Times columnist Michael Harding, which ended up being kindly lent to me via serendipitous circumstances. This is a memoir filled with beautifully rendered insights into depression and anxiety, middle age, love, Ireland and the human spirit, told with warmth and often self-deprecating humour. I am neither male nor middle-aged, but it feels so right to be reading this at the moment (and it is another example of Gretchen Rubin's observation that we often learn more from "one person's highly idiosyncratic experiences" than from more general, universally applicable offerings, even if we have little in common on the outside.)