Kathy Pimlott

February 2021  

​What do we all say to each other? 'I’ve got nothing interesting to tell you about'. But the days are getting lighter longer in tiny increments. We go to check out the mimosa trees in the various parks around us. From a distance they’re definitely yellow but close up they’re still on the cusp of flowering – just one or two fluffy bobbles have made it already. Snowdrops, daffodils, aconites and naked lady crocuses are out. The wildfowl on the lake re-enact Westside Story with their territorial skirmishing and there are two Egyptian geese that seem to follow us around, cropping up wherever there’s a stretch of water, however small. I’ve had my first vaccine dose. I bought a new vacuum cleaner.

I’m struggling to focus on reading, listening and writing at present, but keep showing up in the hope that I'll stumble onto something that catches hold. Above my desk is a postcard with the Picasso quote, "Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working." I may be going through the motions just now but at some point I'll wake up. I will.

I'm reading

The North; Nora Hughes' Under Divis Mountain (Templar)); and re-reading Emergency Kit (Faber)