Hullo for London
01.07.2008 - 08.07.2008 15 °C
So, a friend wrote me today and said that he was worried about me because I hadn't posted in my blog for a few days. I realize that I posted something like 20 blog entries in June, and I really didn't mean to post that much, for a number of reasons. Firstly, I don't really think my life is interesting enough that people want to read a blog entry every day and a half. Secondly, I don't want people to become "overwhelmed" by the amount of stuff I am posting. Finally, because I don't want to set any expectations that anyone should expect that kind of frequency in the future.
Anyway, a quick blog entry to say that I am fine. I've been busy, but just not in a way that's interesting in a blog entry. I've been getting together with friends in town, friends of friends who live her, a few contacts from travellerspoint.com and even going on some interviews. In addition, I have been looking for a new place to live, watching both the British Grand Prix and the final of Wimbledon and checking out a couple new neighbourhoods for future living.
Two things to say.
First, if I had any illusions that I was Ra, the Sun God, and thus not going to get any rain in London, that has been destroyed by the past 5 days. A note from today's paper:
As much as half a month's rain fellon London last night, leaving it awash - and weathermen have warned there is worse to come. The deluge was so severe that flights at Heathrow were grounded, leaving thousands of passengers stranded. Met Office forcaster Barry Grommett said showers would continue to drench the capital throughout the day and added, "It's going to be pretty wet tomorrow too, I am afraid."
Rain? In London? Who would have predicted that?
Secondly, I have always admired poets. I think I am an okay writer of prose, but when it comes to being concise, I am not. If it can be said in 8 words, I'll find a way to say it in 10,000. But I wanted to try and capture that feeling I had when walking through those greenfields in Eynsford, so I attempted to write this poem.
If you have read the entry, let me know what you think. If you haven't read the entry, read the poem, and then let me know if the poem captures the mood the entry.
Dark day, all closed to me
Sit under clouds of grey
Where does the sunshine?
On the fields in the distance
Field of green
green wheat, not yet mature
sways in the wind
I touch it, feel it's impermanence
sway with it, young myself
born again, a field of green