Saturday, 21 April 2007

Acres of weekend and the sea, the sea

I have a son, and he is always with me even when he is not with me. And yet, when he is not with me I feel very empty.
I am feeling my way into this expanse of Friday night, Saturday, Sunday, into Monday.
He is away doing what boys should be doing. Getting grubby, getting into trouble, playing football, laughing, shouting.
This weekend they have gone to the seaside.
I wish him ice cream and sunshine and sand between his toes and rock pools. Frisbee on the beach, paddling, the salt in the air, I smell the sea in his hair as I pull him back, close to me.
I wish I could be with him.
I wish he was with me.
But most of all I wish I wasn't ill. At times like this.
So I get up, have a bath, put on the washing machine and I feel comforted by white noise. It soothes.
Since I became ill Kate Bush released an album with a song I haven't managed to hear yet. I think it was meant for a day like today. People think she doesn't make any sense, but she's always made perfect sense to me. My son is at the seaside. I am here. These are the lyrics to Mrs Bartolozzi on Kate Bush's latest album. Can you feel what I am feeling?

I remember it was that Wednesday
Oh when it rained and it rained
They traipsed mud all over the house
It took hours and hours to scrub it out
All over the hall carpet
I took my mop and my bucket
And I cleaned and I cleaned
The kitchen floor
Until it sparkled
Then I took my laundry basket
And put all the linen in it
And everything I could fit in it
All our dirty clothes that hadn’t gone into the wash
And all your shirts and jeans and things
And put them in the new washing machine

Washing machine
Washing machine

I watched them going round and round
My blouse wrapping itself around your trousers
Oh the waves are going out
My skirt floating up around my waist
As I wade out into the surf
Oh and the waves are coming in
Oh and the waves are going out
Oh and you’re standing right behind me
Little fish swim between my legs
Oh and the waves are coming in
Oh and the waves are going out
Oh and the waves are coming in
Out of the corner of my eye
I think I see you standing outside
But it’s just your shirt
Hanging on the washing line
Waving it’s arm as the wind blows by
And it looks so alive
Nice and white
Just like it’s climbed right out
of my washing machine
Washing machine
Washing machine

Slooshy sloshy slooshy sloshy
Get that dirty shirty clean
Slooshy sloshy slooshy sloshy
Make those cuffs and collars gleam
Everything clean and shiny

Washing machine
Washing machine
Washing machine

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