Things have been quiet, I know. I keep waiting for life to settle down and to do what I tell it, but I’m starting to realise that that isn’t going to happen. I’m faced with a choice that keeps me awake, sometimes: Sydney or Melbourne? I know that, whatever happens, I won’t be in this degree after June; economics has chewed me up and spat me out. The choice now is between histories, and really it’s very lucky to have to pick between two lovely outcomes. There are days, though, when it seems like I can only see the negatives of each choice.
What’s that Sylvia Plath line? i remember reading it in the Bell Jar; I’m sure all you clever blogging types will know it. She describes herself as faced with this tree full of delicious fruit, and each is a glorious future — she only has to pluck one, to decide how her life ought to go, and all the others will fade and wither away. So rather than taking one fate from the tree she sits by it and agonises, and watches the tree rot and die without having picked anything. I feel like that in many ways; whenever I’m about to make up my mind I realise how much I’ll be sacrificing and, again, I’m caught in this evil indecision. And it’s already May: the year isn’t waiting for me.
It isn’t all bad — in making like another gal-pal of page and screen I’m savouring the little things, Amélie-style. Afternoons listening to good music, stretched out in the pale sun on the lawn, and cute dogs and chai lattes and golden teacups. It’s a good time to look inward and take life day by day.
These pictures are from trip in the Blue Mountains with my parents, at Easter. Like most things in and around Sydney, it’s a very beautiful place but somehow feels very wrong to me — thanks, in this case, to an plague of tourists. Maybe that’s something my quiet Melburnian soul struggles to deal with — lord knows I had the same problem in London and found solace in peaceful Edinburgh. But nothing could really ruin such a wonderful day as this, with the best weather going: clear, blue, cold and crisp. We’re really sitting on the edge of winter, now, and it’s so special.