The Dog Who Was Scared of Bicycles

 

When I walk Sita in the mornings, we meet other dogs with their owners. I bent to stroke a greyhound and noticed it was trembling fiercely. 

Aw, what's wrong? I asked the owner.

The dog was scanning the horizon in the wild-grass field that is Dawsholm City Park.

Ach, he's looking out for bicycles, she replied.

There were no bicycles in sight, but the poor dog was shaking with sheer vigilance. 

Apparently, a few years ago, it was slightly injured by a bike. As time passed, the dog started looking out for bikes everywhere. 

I haven't posted in ages, because on many days, I feel like that dog.

The world can be sudden and random. I've weaned myself off Twitter. There are are too many 'bicycles' behind parked cars. I think it's better for me.

I'm concentrating on looking after the kids, really being there for all their needs: a low-carbon activity that's greatly under-valued in society. Especially when their Dad is on tour. 

The horrors of Ukraine keep coming. I've donated to charity; it feels like all we can do right now. It's still so shocking. 

My writing has stalled. Occasionaly, I re-read it and think it's no good. I let it sit. But that's okay too? There's no compulsion to write. There's no higher moral ground from writing. It's okay to just 'be'. It's taken me 4 months to do a blog post!

I also miss the sea. Did I mention that? One day, I think I'd like to live by the sea again. When I'm asleep, I have mixed-up dreams about trying to buy a house by the sea. It's too expensive, it has weird, Alice-in-Wonderland rooms, it's above a book shop, but the shop is closed. In my dream,  I cried when I saw the view: it was my childhood view of Islay. 

                                                    Photo - Ronnie Campbell

Anyway, my fellow dreamers, it's time to get the dog out for a walk. 

'Love, Life, Prosecco!' as my girl, Tess, says in irony. The Prosecco of Spring sunshine is fizzing over Scotland. May it shine on you too. 

                                                      'I can't swim, mummy.' 

                                                      'I know.'