The Centre of my Universe

The gravity of the Three Bridge Kingdom is impacting on my blood. Separating the settler from the gallowglass. One pools in my feet, the other runs only in my brain. The knowledge that there will come a day when I leave already projects a rupture in my heart.

As the attraction of place becomes stronger, it seems as if it is also warping the trajectories of others I love. Capturing them, creating orbits around the centre of my universe. Coalescing friends into an accessible solar system, ordered by the musica universalis of squabbling geese and boats gently rolling on the water.

The fact that my co-author’s partner lives canalside means the weekends he visits, my home feels like the terrace abode of The Beatles from Help. This week Tim Dedopulos moved from sleeping on my sofa to being a near neighbour with his own resident card. The gravitation even pulls in visitors from Verwood and Hadleigh who have been distanced for years. I can almost believe that one Sunday morning I will walk out for the papers and encounter my errant Canadian brother on the towpath.

These are harsh times and I need my mojo back. The echo of it at Worth Matravers made me realise just what I was missing. If I am to find it, maybe I should look closer to home. The sustaining magic of life is in the small wonder of friends and the soul-kissed love of my little patch of London.

A Halo of Butterflies

Many years ago I learnt a trick which has scored me many free meals. Whenever I see a film shoot and I am hungry, I just wait in line at the catering truck. As long as I can feign the standard boredom of an extra, there is never usually a problem walking away with some hot food. Today at Paddington, the ploy resulted in a breakfast of sausage-filled croissant.

It was a good start to a good day. Early sun warmed the shadows. Blossom exploded from trees. The gentle hiss of sprinklers accompanied Melvyn Bragg as he led me through the Battle of Thermopylae.

Crossing Sussex Gardens, I began walking with Muse and gained company. A halo of butterflies circled my head. Two iridescent orange satellites in elliptical orbit. I expected them to decay, but they maintained their dancing formation. I pushed on for a full half mile reborn in the image of Quetzalcoatl. Maybe, just maybe, my mojo is returning.