Small Pleasures

A little bit of normality has returned for me this week.

We’re still shielding for Covid-19 (and were expecting the period to be extended any day now); and I’ve still got a trapped nerve in my ribs; but – and it feels a huge, amazing, brilliant kind of ‘but’ – I sent some images off to print on Sunday. They’re a small fraction of the stockpile that I’ve amassed during lockdown; I've been re-engaging with old photographs from two, five, ten years ago and re-processing them with the memories from ‘then’ intermingling with the feelings from ‘now’.

This is one of the images.

It was taken in Roundhay Park, looking south through a stand of trees on a bright winter's day – the sun casting long, raking shadows towards us. And those memories of 'then' set an upbeat mood to the style I've adopted for the image – our pleasure and optimism transferred into blues and yellows, a splash of green. But, of course the ‘now’ is very different; our feelings are confused; we're uncertain and uneasy – so that lack of clarity is reflected in the image too.

Roundhay Park in the winter sunshine

I’ve been like a kid at Christmas since I sent off the images – only two sleeps till Santa (Sunday night, Monday night; will the time never pass?) counting down the hours, checking the delivery app on my phone. As I write, it tells me that “Tom (the DPD delivery driver) is currently making delivery number 6, [and I’m] delivery number 29.” But I’m still glancing out of the window every few minutes, even though I know he’s still an hour away.

Small pleasures, but pleasures indeed!

Small pleasures too, taking the camera out for a walk yesterday along the lakeside in the park, the first time since mid-March. And, somehow, having a camera in my hand helped me see more of the world around me – even when more than half an eye was aware and suspicious of passers-by (and we’d adopted an exaggerated weaving walk to avoid them). I could see the profusion of summer growth, heavy-laden branches, showing greens of every tint, tone and shade. (And here, whilst writing, I’ve taken an equally pleasurable foray into ‘Colour Theory’ to check that the terms ‘tint, tone and shade’ are exactly the ones I mean).

Nature really hasn’t stopped for Covid-19, has it?

Then returning home, taking a moment to consider the garden – potatoes starting to bud (grown, I confess, for their flowers not their crop), the clematis too; the variegated hosta, determined and sturdy. And the tomato plant has shaken off its dejected look – resentful that I’d put it out in the rain! No, nature hasn’t stopped at all.

These are my small pleasures, an oasis of normality in abnormal, uncertain times.

But, as Alma Cogan sang so many years ago, these “little things mean a lot”.

Take care

Paddy

June 2020