Apparently farmers and the unemployed share a fascination with the weather. This is especially so on the last day of March as we approach what is forecast to be April showers for May flowers. We’re having today an introduction to that poetic recurrence, drizzle persisting into the morrow. Meanwhile the inclement weather affords a welcome reprieve from the more industrious preoccupations which normally attend a day of atmospheric high and sunshine. As I await the warming temperatures and clear air – interrupted though they may be in the morning tomorrow by a delayed March blizzard which I am certain will melt by the afternoon – I am at liberty to dwell upon the trifling recreations which now characterize my existence; namely, idle reflection upon my past, present and future, a car ride naturally (including the blatant immersion in the automobile’s many switches and conveniences), absorption of the limitless fields of Renfrew County and ultimately a strong, black coffee and general revelation in the events of the day which by the way have already been preceded by a highly profitable visit to my barber.
The catharsis is made all the more balmy by the arrival lately of three pair of short pants which I very satisfactorily discovered on Amazon Canada. The singular feature of the pants are, first, that they fit; second, that the inseam is the historic length of 10″, third, that the length is ever so slightly below the knee; and, last that the waist rests above the hip. The overall effect is that one’s protuberant belly is entirely accommodated, rendering the no doubt mistaken mirth with one’s legacy of indulgence. Nonetheless by definition inhabiting such an exceedingly pleasant construction promotes an enthusiasm of notable but comfortable dimensions. The upshot is peculiarly a synthesis with life, the distinct sense of participation and – in an odd way – propriety. It is I suppose axiomatic that if one does not feel compelled to resist or to obscure, the contrary enlargement of scope and engagement is an advantage. In any event it is thus that I am propelled on this otherwise claggy, airless day.
I interrupted the stream of my barren activity by engaging in what I know is unwelcome conduct; namely, calling upon a person at their place of employment without either advanced notice or an appointment. Granted the object of my enquiry was neither medical nor professional but nonetheless I encountered what can only be esteemed an abrupt invitation into the woman’s sanctum sanctorum where we summarily exchanged thoughts, intelligence, brochures and business cards – all the while keeping in mind her prior alert that she had only “5 minutes before I have to make a call“. Unlike many others might well not have done, I limited our conversation to as many minutes allowed (or less) and equally as steeply thanked her for her time, turned on my heels and left the building. While I was decidedly unimpressed by this initial encounter I had at least satisfied myself of two things; one, there was nothing of merit to be done at the moment; and, two, the underlying promotion of the enquiry was quickly evaporating in the face of such inconsequence. In matters such as this, related to the anticipation of the future, it is on balance a worthless pursuit. Yet it helps to clarify at least part of the landscape.
Upon regaining the sanctity of my own drawing room, I furthered the previous investigation by distilling related documents harboured in my oak cabinet. This in turn exposed an archaic collection of a variety of documents. Off to the shredder! I have yet to align myself with the exertion required to clean up the records relating to the administration of the estates of my late parents. How quickly those events and the sinews tied to them are pulled into the pit of forgotten times waiting to be swept away by dust, decay or complete destruction. Don’t get me started! It is not my way to relive the past nor to despair of the future. Always my sights are upon what is to come, what marvels have yet to unfold, what serendipitous delight abounds.
As the sun begins to set (and the clouds have widened for the evening ceremony) I have succumbed to Apple Music Jazz (Cool Jazz Essentials) which is invariably pleasing. The wonder of algorithms! Nor am I distressed to be so discernible! I am the first to confess my commitment to taste – though assuaged by the further admission of relentless discovery of new and stimulating music such as Ludovico Einaudi and Alexis Ffrench. Our late afternoon ritual is a far cry from the erstwhile martini and blazing Vermont Casting but it nonetheless represents all the solemn practice and convention one would expect of a similar celebration.