Notes from the ice cube

The morning was beautiful and began beautifully with Dr Balon sitting benevolently on a chair in my room while I devoured a bowl of coffee and a croissant. 

From the terrace the mountains were pale on the horizon, dominated by a thumbs up from Mont Valier.

I rang Mu to see if she wanted to come for a walk with me and while she walked through the cul de sacs of Newry I wandered round and round the chateau park with her on loud speaker listening to her complaining about her father and brother's lack of scratting skills.

At lunchtime I sat down with my tray in my newbie corner and was joined by Trembling Man who asked me if my name was really Mariette.  I was peeved that he'd popped my little bubble of solitude and said yes it was, I couldn't make it up, it was the will of my mother at the moment of my birth. He told me he was Mathieu.  We got talking about how his night was (bad), how mine was (good), the quality of the food (bad-him), (good,me).  He said that's probably because your English and I choked on my water and punched him on the arm.

We joined Old Coffee Machine man (Robert) in the winter sun and smoked a couple of cigarettes.  Mathieu talked about English premier league teams, De Gaulle and Churchill, moving onto Blair, Brown, Cameron, May and Sunak.  I was impressed by a Frenchman's knowledge of British politics and didn't point out that he'd missed out Truss because it seemed like an easy oversight.

I walked around my parks, clockwise this time, and tried to count the cedars of Lebanon, but they've grown like mushrooms in a ring and defy counting. 

I watched the sun go down behind the mountains from the terrace.  It took the time it took me to smoke a cigarette.

Nox joined me.  A person of undefined gender wearing a long hooded tunic made of teddy bear material and a frantic look in her eyes.  She rolled a tight cigarette for herself and Eve, who is young enough to be my daughter and sits clasping a lighter with the cuffs of her sleeves bunched up around her knuckles.  I just want to put my arms around her and tell her it will all be OK

I watch a low crescent moon balance above the lights on the edge of Toulouse.  I watch an old man walk up and down the corridor barefoot with his empty mug.

I feel life slow down and go to bed with a book.