Yesterday wasn't a day for art. It was a day to refresh, to let my experience here be what it is—my life—not what I can order it into. I needed to step back and walk around town without thinking how to write about it, or how to frame it. Here’s how it went down:
I had delicious fresh eggs cooked in fresh butter for breakfast; the best two foods in Scotland. The chickens must be happier here, because the yolks are practically orange. Delish.
And then I got books. Almost a dozen. I sat on the couch the rest of the morning reading. Refreshing.
There was time for food (rejoice my heart!). We splurged and had an appetizer for lunch. Revolutionary, I know. We’re obsessed with fresh bufalo mozzarella from Italy with fruttato olive oil, tomato, lots of pepper, and a hint of salt. And corn fritters over rice for din-din.
Walker finished his test, and we had time to walk around town and wander in every shop we wished. The loveliest shops live here, stacked with jars of lemon curd, smelling of lavender and rose, with white lamps and lots of cardigans. We welcomed a new shop which sells traditional Scottish items like baskets, brooms, linen cushions, and porridge spurtles. I’m a little partial to the vintage egg bowls, myself.
In a town with about 17000 people, we actually got stuck in foot traffic on Market Street, and had to stop and wait for the flow to ease. Absurd. Speaking of, check this out. Window cleaners in this town are hard-core.
Walk and I had time to sit and talk about life in an old haunt,
and there was time to have a friend over for tea and a chat (love!), and time for skyping.
Charles Simic says that art lends to life a vividness and a coherence that it may lack in the distracting wooliness of the present. Very, very true. But for today, give me bolts of wool and yarn and all those distractions. There vividness in plain life, too.