Starlight star bright

The Basics

Starlight star bright

Not the cheapo range from Sainsbury’s, the life sort of things, the basics of life.  I feel like I’ve gone back to them of late.  The cottage has archaic heating so the fire I talked about in my last post is as much a necessity as it is a very lovely thing to perch by.  My ‘central heating’ would appear to have been designed with just two features in mind; to be as ineffectual as possible and as expensive as possible. But at least there is heating, so I’ll take that as good.

I have no wi-fi, basic or what? This is mainly because my provider are being dicks, I don’t think I can explain it any better than that.  To my great sadness there are not even any GEEs in the vicinity of me or the cottage, not a single, solitary one, they are but fabled and imagined at the moment. No 4G, not even 3G.   But it’s OK because I only Google crap and order things that I forget I’ve ordered on Etsy.  Amber is struggling; SnapChat has almost folded without her input.  She threatened to leave home if I don’t ‘SORT THE WI-FI OUT!’ apparently my role as mother now also includes scaling telegraph poles in neighbouring fields at night to ‘switch on the wi-fi!  We can’t live like this. It’s cruel and, and… wrong’.  Lil is super-chilled, ‘really, nobody died.’  Sometimes I forget that she’s nine because she makes more sense than I do 97% of the time.  She’s also, curiously, started reading Vogue, stolen from her sister and stashed in her room. I’m jealous, I don’t even have the concentration for Vogue at the moment so I only really read cereal boxes and those Morrison’s and Screw Fix leaflets with all their offers in them, and then I read them again because I forgot what I read. And then I remember that I don’t give a shit and put them in the recycling.

We’re back to basics with the telly (no internets) anyone with any iota of sense knows that there is NOTHING worth watching on council telly now that Planet Earth 2 has finished. So, the one eyed god in the corner is redundant.  I miss Netflix, I never finished the new series of Narcos or Orange is the New Black so I haven’t yet decided whether A. it’s normal to find Pablo Escobar so ‘likeable’ despite being a murderous, megalomaniac monster of a man and B. if it’s normal for a heterosexual woman to get as shifty as a 14 year old boy when Ruby Rose appears on screen?  I can’t even Google it to find out, back to the GEEs…

I’ve taken myself off social media, I’m using the basics of – SHOCK – phoning people. SHOCK – meeting up with people. Rad, I know. I’ll be back of course, I’ll miss it too much, but it’s necessary right now.  I do want to see everyone’s Christmas trees and I do want to see YouTube posts of Mariah Carey’s All I Want for Christmas is You. Oh no, wait a minute, no I don’t.  I know I’ll punt this on FB but consider it like a chap door run situation, I’ll knock the door, leave this post on the doorstep and I’ll make a run for it.  No offence meant and I hope none taken.

Christmas – basic.  Prep to date is covering my eyes and ears and saying ‘la la la la la la la la la’ a lot and pretending it’s not happening. My dreams of hibernating like a bear (only much, much hairier after said period of hibernation) covered in leaves and moss are just not coming to pass.  The cottage looks beautiful though, there’s an amazing tree that smells so woody and good and giant stars lighting the rooms, it’s lovely enough to touch even a bricked up heart.   The party season has evaded me this year, but that’s OK too, I’m happier here cossetted by these crooked, old walls. If they could talk I wonder what they’d tell?  600 years of lives before mine.  I find that extraordinarily comforting, that our trials and triumphs, heartaches and happiness are echoes of all those who went before us – and all those who’ll go after too, of course.  As my lovely Grandma used to say, ‘we are but feathers in the fire’.  We’re not the first and we most certainly won’t be the last. It’s good to put some big assed perspective on stuff.   I’m part of this house’s story now too, I promise to make it a good one.

I have no recipes to offer you, what a terrible hostess, but I’m guessing you already know how to make toast and eat cheese straight from the fridge (ha ha) so here’s a playlist instead.  Put together with dark old December in mind, some tracks old; back to some folk basics here too, Dylan, Jackson C. Frank and Pentangle and some new – many introduced to me this strange year by those who know far more musically than I.  I’ll up the tempo soon, I promise.

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