April 15th, still in Cotherstone

Well, I have finally booked myself a ticket for Menorca, in a month’s time. I’ve been waiting to see my way clear here but I now realise that that day may never come, so I just have to call it quits at some point, at least for the time being. As time goes by, it just seems to get harder… to quote the Other Immortal Bard, “it doesn’t get easier, it just gets later.”

The house goes on the market this week. In spite of taking the pills religiously, I still lie awake at night wondering if I’m doing the right thing, dismantling the family legacy. I know we can’t afford to keep this place. I know the overheads are beyond us. I know Diana can’t live here and it’s too big for me alone even if I wanted to stay and make my life here, which I’m not sure I would want to do anyway – have to check back in with new york first… I know we need to sell this in order to hang on to menorca. I know it’s not my life, here, but my parents’. But still I wonder if I couldn’t find a way to preserve it… it seems so awful to dismantle such an amazing legacy… especially as at this point in time, its monetary value has dropped through the floor… Progress (in terms of the dismantling) is so heartbreakingly slow… partly outside circumstances – lawyers, agents, it all takes time, especially trying to find the right homes for all their collections – but partly also because my sister can only do about one thing a day and then her brain packs up, and if I try and move faster without her, things invariably go belly up. This would be hard enough without the emotional roller-coaster rides… but that’s where we’re at, and it’s no good wishing things were different. It’s what is. We are putting the house on the market, but for the moment hanging on to the two adjoining bits – the annexe/my studio, and the rented cottage. Partly, mostly, because a total break with the place seems impossible right now; to keep the cottage means a tiny bit of income (and we don’t want to disrupt the tenants’ lives if we can help it); and the studio means a place to put the stuff we want to hang on to for now… perhaps it would be simpler to just cut loose and let go of it all – if we could find a buyer – one of the agents advised against it, as it would make the package pretty pricey and might scare off potential house buyers… but maybe it would be easier to find someone who wanted all of it together, and just divest… who knows? my head is reeling, I’m drowning in a sea of possibilities… in a sea of stuff… so much stuff… so many attachments… so many decisions…

Hard to believe it’s only a little over 2 weeks since I was in Egypt. What an amazing trip… the diem was righteously carped: not only did I see Cairo from an insider’s point of view – 30 million people and no traffic lights, think about it (altho’ I must be the only person to go to cairo and NOT see the pyramids and the cairo museum – actually I did see them, but from the other side of town, from the top of the Citadel on that first morning when the sky was so clear, before the sandstorm blew in) – I also realised 2 dreams of a lifetime: glorious Alexandria for 2 days (the book market by night, the new library, the perfect museum, the mediterranean) – I had said I wanted to sip a beer on a terrace overlooking the sea and hey presto, lunch at the Greek Club, out by the old Fort, as the tail of the sandstorm whipped up the sea (no sand left in the wind, thankfully) so it looked like the Moray Firth on a summer’s day); and best of all, 2 days in the desert – the Black Desert, the White Desert, the Crystal Mountain – sleeping under the stars in the white desert, just me and pesha and Kookah our guide – who needs drugs when you have that hallucinagenic landscape? I covered way more miles than any sane person should in the course of a week, but we had such a good time, it was worth every one of them. I just want to go back, and go deeper in… As a final bonus, after a felucca ride on the Nile my last afternoon back in Cairo, I had an over-night in Istanbul on the way back which afforded me a few early morning hours in the grand Bazaar, where I loaded up on bling to bring back to sis as baksheesh… and then straight down to Devon for Easter weekend with good friends – how can I complain??

But none of which got me off the hook for this part… Absolutely nothing got done while I was gone, not even the mail opened. It was all waiting for me when I got back, ever more present and unaccounted for… Sam survived very well, however, living in the studio and being fed by sweet Angela next door… talking of which, I need to find him a home for 2 months while I’m in menorca. yes I bought the ticket but have not figured out how it’s going to work. But I know I need to go and deal with the aftermath out there – hopefully I will also get some real down time as well, alone time, and writing time… god knows I need it… Orfeo has been put on hold, altho’ I may go over just for a week (I’d still have to do all the work, for a fraction of the fee – hmm…) I must just trust… ’tain’t what you do, it’s the way how you do it…

Talking of which, I did my solo gig in Reeth – I was going to have special guests join me for the 2nd half, to wit, sis, but she got sick of course so it was truly solo and actually I had a great time. The hall was packed, I converted the stage to my living room (they provided a perfectly decent roland piano and a floor lamp, I supplied the rest), and Phil, musician friend from Newbiggin, was sound man, roadie and driver – the latter very important, as it meant I could drink not only during but after the gig and not have to drive that insanely tortuous road home through Arkengarthdale. The set list was a mixed bag – my songs, brecht, music hall, you name it, I don’t suppose they’d ever seen or heard anything like it, but I made the choir a pot of money – could have done with some of it myself, but hey ho, what else is new? Count your blessings, girl…