It is an odd though by no means uncommon circumstance that one loses one’s bearings. When this happens it translates even the most somber demeanour to a singular trajectory; thence to constrained endurance and eventually embracing a broad and unfamiliar orientation. In short things quickly become topsy-turvy. Indeed so awry is the sensation that there is a readiness to believe that one is unhinged. If I were to guess at a metaphor the ingestion of an unfamiliar drug might be the cause of the disquietude. The anxiety is otherwise inexplicable.  Apart from the acknowledgement of one’s ephemeral existence for example, I haven’t any other enduring irritants in life; and, I hesitate to adopt an existential dynamic as an absolution.

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What an unanticipated collision of events has today fortuitously transpired!  In the instant of a breath, the landscape is an inexpressible combination of Nature and providence. We’ve now surpassed the end of August, the last of the much divined summer months. The Labour Day Weekend has begun.

I expected more traffic on the highway early this afternoon when I went for my usual car wash in Stittsville. But the passage was uncommonly tranquil. People have seemingly evacuated to their rural, riparian or other resort. The weather is certainly favourable. Yet it is distinguishable because there is a noticeably warm wind from the southwest. I  sensed the balmy air when driving the car with the windows and landau roof open.  The south wind is rich and soft. Later, upon my return home, I sat on the balcony and absorbed the long view to the river which was being stirred repeatedly by the gusts of mellow air.

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Judging by the number of times I awoke throughout the dawn today, tossing and turning in a repeatedly failed attempt to subdue the stiffness and penetrating pain of my left (newly installed) knee and lower leg, it is correct to observe that I wasn’t sleeping at all well and that I hadn’t any precise idea of the time of day despite the fragments of daylight bordering the window blinds. I finally convinced myself it was time to withdraw from under the duvet. When I uplifted my sleep mask and positioned my iPhone at arm’s length towards me I saw that it was before nine o’clock.  That at least was not a disgraceful start to the day by my latest standards of unemployment.  But I wasn’t about to celebrate by perching on my tricycle for a morning purge. In fact further debate about the athletic topic precipitously lapsed when I was commissioned to chauffeur His Lordship to numerous retail venues.

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Looking out the drawing room windows upon the nearby grey and mournful river evokes a sharp contrast from yesterday’s limitless sunshine, dazzling blue water and azure skies. It is a simple and fruitful reminder of the platitudes to which we unwittingly accustom ourselves. The moral lesson is the more easily digestible today in particular because it opened with an element of beneficence.  We in turn reciprocated (itself a matter of lingering social profit and uplifting civility). The ensuing afternoon has been an agreeable re-enactment of typical communions. The day’s performance began drawing to close late afternoon with an impromptu repositioning to a serious analysis of gratitude. And if I recall correctly, within that forbidding dialogue surfaced the mention of prayer (though somewhat apologetically). The Church of England is deeply rooted.

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The 9′ floor-to-ceiling windows in our drawing room afford an endlessly dynamic and prodigious view across the adjoining meadow and upriver to the Village of Appleton.  Witnessing the occasional flat-bottomed watercraft on the river is like glimpsing a dazzling gemstone on a casual finger at table. Indeed during these summer months the colours are spectacular; viz., green, blue, yellow, white. It is evidence of the splendour that awaits in the autumn. And similarly prepares us for the bland recovery that is winter.

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Contrary to my expectation the sometimes complicated exposition of daily living has fortuitously settled like the wings of a dove upon the unwitting panorama of my life. The contamination seems to have been overruled! At the same time I appear to have preserved some rationality. But there is no need to dilute this enquiry. So clarified is the air abounding that my vision is afforded extension, precision, artistry and colour. These are I know broad commendations. What isn’t so easily put to rest however is my lingering anxiety. The perpetual regret of anyone living a dream is that one day they’ll wake up!

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“Meanwhile Edward busied himself with schemes for establishing settled government in the conquered territories. To a man of his training and temperament, this meant the establishment of English law and administration. He could see no merits in the archaic Welsh customs which regarded all crimes as capable of atonement by a money payment, treated a wrecked ship as the lawful perquisite of the local proprietor, and hardly distinguished legitimate from illegitimate children in determining the descent of property.”

Excerpt From
The History of England
Thomas Frederick Tout

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It is with scuples that I relate what has transpired throughout our lives since six o’clock this morning.  On the one hand, the facts are there, austere but true. There is no deceit attached to any particle of the chronicle which follows.  On the other hand, there are sometimes things about which one should not chatter (as I confess I am wont to do). But sparsity of thought and words is not a character for which I am rightfully known. And rather pretend I can wittingly change the tide of either myself or history, I prefer to cling to what I have instinctively enacted in the hopes at least of avoiding any derivative clamour which might otherwise arise upon the rendition of an adulterated version (howsoever it may have been inspired by propitious social delicacy).

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Unquestionably it has become an unabated engrossment of mine as I sit by my desk to stare at the meadow by the river. And for reasons of accident, fortuity and the consequences of the natural expiration of time (all of which I shall spare you), the situation in which I now find myself is by my standard highly brookable and one for which I am smugly grateful. I suspect all my life I’ve been rather smug, succeeding as I regularly do to calibrate without qualification my inconsequential performance. And why not?  One cannot rely upon others to buoy the passage through life. And what value might there be in outright condemnation of a failed attempt? It’s merely the bluster of the effort!  Stirring the wind! Making a mess!

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Today we collected from my sister and her husband two unwanted Driade chairs which they had recently inherited among others (two of which they’ve kept for themselves).  My brother-in-law generously took upon himself the task of preparing the furniture by meticulously cleaning the chairs top-to-bottom to remove the taint of the passage of time. We have since managed to get the chairs safely home from the city and into our apartment. They are a decided hit in our modern digs. And relaxing too.  Make no mistake, the bijou size requires no accommodation.

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