Friday 25 April 2014

Tumbling diamonds of the year.

What are you going to do?

I don’t know yet.

time goes past….

What did you do?

A bit of yoga, a bit.

Then I had a siesta.

Got up, wrote a bit opened the door and looked at the rain.

Wrote a bit and drank some limejuice and coconut milk – though that might have been the other way round.

Looked out the window at the rain again.

Made some tea.

Drank some coconut milk and lime whilst I was waiting for the kettle to boil - though those ingredients might have been the other way round.

Started wondering what it would be like if I was a writer, if I lived in the tropics – Borneo or somewhere in a small wooden hut on the edge of a tropical forest.

The house would have a terrace of course and it would be warm enough to be working outside on a terrace protected from the rain.

It would be the monsoon season.

The rain would be noisy, as noisy as the keys of the typewriter as I typed much faster than I am on this computer keyboard.

The words would fly onto the paper in front of me faster than they tumbled out of my thoughts.

A monkey would run across the grass between the hut and the forest, jump up onto the railing that runs along the edge of the balcony.

A bird would swoop down from the trees and the monkey would jump at him, both embarrassed as one would slip and sprawl onto the wet grass, the other panic and fly awkwardly into the leaves of a banana palm.

I would be wearing glasses, I would be slightly unshaven, tanned and wearing a white shirt and casual but really cool looking linen trousers, probably black.

Lights would suddenly appear through the trees, signalling that a car was driving along the forest track.

The beams of light bouncing through the rain as if they were diamonds tumbling from someone’s pocket.

It would be a jeep.

The driver, a woman, is clearly soaked and seeing her I would stand up, walk across the terrace and down the three wooden steps into the rain.

We would meet in the middle of the lawn and embrace, caring nothing for the rain, which in any case is warm and tropical.

The monkey would run to the typewriter and continue where I had left off.

Except there is no monkey.

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