Whitehaven

Rather absurdly had to go over to the West Cumberland today (what a grim run down old spot that is ... I love the subtlety of having to go in via the mortuary). As I drove back east I was very tempted to just spend some time by Bassenthwaite to rest for a moment in a past which felt more settled and secure; it feels so distant now. Spent the rest of the day with my friend sitting in the office in the rather disorienting limbo state of this shut down period. I really think they may need to rethink the new acronym CNTW ... you wouldn’t want any misplaced u’s.

I liked hearing this poem on R4 as part of the autumn equinox poems...

The Door - Miroslav Holub

Go and open the door.
Maybe outside there’s
a tree, or a wood,
a garden,
or a magic city.

Go and open the door.
Maybe a dog’s rummaging.
Maybe you’ll see a face,
or an eye,
or the picture
of a picture.

Go and open the door.
If there’s a fog
it will clear.

Go and open the door.
Even if there’s only
the darkness ticking,
even if there’s only
the hollow wind,
even if
nothing
is there,
go and open the door.

At least
there’ll be
a draught.