Hot heart

Hot hard top hat heart

I stroked a dog tonight, sitting on a red velvet sofa, with a coffee and a slice of cake, wishing I knew more.

More, just more...
to be
an interesting woman.

She has a lot to say, that Lucy.

Do I?

I talk a lot about cake, Loving, trees, food, animals, seasons and songs,

but I speak sparsely of
war
history
big, heavy books with long titles.
Serious things, that make people go 'hmmmmm...yes.' slight lowering lilt at the end there by the way. Like rolling down a serious hill.

Perhaps I need to start reading more. Reading more about wars. Flexing my bog book muscles.

I would also like to start being a little kinder to myself.

Ok, so I might not know much about Barthes, or Freud, or be able to get my map of the world the right way up,

but I can tell you about proteins, and glycogen, and I can tell you about Anais Nin, and Sylvia Plath,
and Hans Andersen,
and Milly Molly Mandy,

I could tell you about ISA's (I signed up for one today) and perhaps I might even be able to dredge up some information about the Ancient Egyptians.

I feel. I feel strongly.
I smell the morning, I talk to myself.
I garden and I make great sandwiches (when I can be bothered). I think I bake rather well, and I make good jam.
I hope I'll be a good Mother.

I listen, and I can do a bit of Reiki, and some Kinesiology...

I suppose I'm not that bad.

You could probably spend an hour or so with me,
and not get too bored.