Week 2

The afternoon is mine!

The flock of brits have left the island and their retreating week and left me to a magnificently quiet and calm afternoon. And in this calm the mountains and I enjoy an afternoon together, they, all cloud-light dappled and shaded, all misty in the sundrenched distance, and I, recovering from the intensity of being apart of the re-awakening week of 11 strangers. They all turned out to be kindred spirits and lovely people, gentle poms who left me parting gifts and a generous tip. They were ever so Brittish with their camp-fire songs, their incessant chatter of all things menial and boring like Doc Martin and the Royal gossip. In their wake is a week ahead of 2 Germans who come and idly lazy pool-side, a sight which i suspect will continue all week. They giggle and squirm in the sun and breeze, moisturizing eachother and laying about in white linens and panama hats under the flapping umbrella. Its just me and them this week and time to ride to town, time to explore the area beyond the sub-universe that is La Serrania. Silent winds wobble the flowers in the oncoming autumnal change, and the sharp edge of the mountainview increases in contrast as the sun slips away, there is a great sincerity to them, the waz they rise and fall, kneeling to the valley, and extending themselves to the afternoons in full light and colour.

I have been reading Lolita and am whisked away by Nabokovs invocation of dreamy desire and earthy passions, all full of the language of holidays and vacations, albeit the paedopheliac backdrop, the imagery is fitting to my island paradise here.

Saturdays, my day off, is often something I anticipate and also dread as I feel the need to escape this little reverie of a place and its, at times, claustrophobic mountains. Though, the need seems to be not so pressing, its enough to be free of tending to people for the day, to enjoy the landscape to myself is enough of a recovery of the week and my desire to depart is fullfilled by dreaming and painting the day away, either pool side or lost in painting with a great podcast and a pot of tea.

I have spent the morning painting, and have just done a little watercolour in purples of the darling cat, Cookie, and her laconic sun-stretched pose in the bench in front of me, she seems to know what Im up to.

I just went for a little swim in the view-reflected pool, cool and calm. I feel the wake of the departure of a lively group and feel the emptyness, and realize my job is actually quite a sad one, so be making friends with these great groups that come and open up and enjpy their time, then wave quick goodbyes and Im left with the silence.

Im off for a walk to the woods, Rx