Monday, 29 March 2010
Yesterday the cat was re-homed and today my favourite mug was broken. I bought it because it had a pattern of trees that reminded me of Wimbledon common and because it was big. I have lived in Wimbledon pretty much all my life and now I am moving away. Not to anywhere, I am going to float and see what suits me. Because I don't yet know. I have visions of the ocean and community that is absent from my life in London. Maybe I shall find it. But I really bloody loved that mug. It was all shades of green with silvery leaves and red butterflies. It was wrapped up in a box and given as a metaphor for a friend to look after while I am homeless. I had planted it with thyme because 'there are exciting times ahead' (note the unsubtle wordplay). But the friend, the dear friend, is as clumsy as me and the box with the mug inside was dropped at the tube station all of twenty minutes after it had been given. The mug broke into more than two pieces and my beautiful image of the common in spring was smashed apart. When the friend told me on the phone what has happened I cried. I hadn't yet cried about leaving. Leaving and not knowing. So we decided to bury the mug Wimbledon Common and to say goodbye.