la_marquise (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
la_marquise) wrote2010-02-02 12:41 pm
la_marquise) wrote2010-02-02 12:41 pm
And she's back
It was an interesting week. The start... no, not so good. But the end was mainly fun and largely relaxing.
I've done a lot of solo travelling. Back in the early 90s, my first academic job was in Dublin. The marquis was in Cambridge. We took it in turns to come over, once a fortnight, for about 18 months, and the rhythm of that -- of lone flying -- remains with me. And in the decade that followed, the marquis stayed in Cambridge and I criss-crossed the UK alone every weekend. I've flown to the US alone twice, and returned alone from the Netherlands. I've been to Milan and back. I have restless genes, I do not like to be still. And yet at the same time, I hate to be apart from the marquis, and -- from those Dublin days -- I miss Cambridge, I miss this house (which we moved into in December 1991 at the end of my Dublin adventure). I'm a creature of imbalance, prone to running, and yet sternly fastened.
I was never homesick as a child or a student. It's this house that has taught me that. My years teaching were reft with that, with hiraeth, that longing that is not quite homesickness and not quite nostalgia, and all about the hunger for belonging. Travelling to join the marquis mid-week, I watched cormorants on Lac Leman from the windows of the train and counted castles in case he had missed them on his trip out (he had missed the biggest, it transpired -- it's harder to see from the road than the train). I love to be in new places, to explore, to see. And I love not to be away, and the two are never mutually content.
But it was pleasant, mostly (too much food), and my skiing is improving (because this is a skill, so I must be always studying and learning: this is not just about fun). The snow was good and on the last day we found a wide red bowl where I could practice off-piste within my comfort zone for terrain. (For the record, I can ski many blacks on piste -- though I do not go near double black diamonds -- but I have little experience with fresh powder, as Europe is not prone to it. I like moguls but am slow with them and inelegant; I count as a high intermediate and that suits me.)
And then we came home. The cats were pleased to see us and our cat feeder -- the wonderful![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elfwhistletree was relieved, as Horus had hidden from her consistently and she was concerned. He was home: he was just being shy. I have a short story to finish and a scary Celtic novel to confront. En avant...
I've done a lot of solo travelling. Back in the early 90s, my first academic job was in Dublin. The marquis was in Cambridge. We took it in turns to come over, once a fortnight, for about 18 months, and the rhythm of that -- of lone flying -- remains with me. And in the decade that followed, the marquis stayed in Cambridge and I criss-crossed the UK alone every weekend. I've flown to the US alone twice, and returned alone from the Netherlands. I've been to Milan and back. I have restless genes, I do not like to be still. And yet at the same time, I hate to be apart from the marquis, and -- from those Dublin days -- I miss Cambridge, I miss this house (which we moved into in December 1991 at the end of my Dublin adventure). I'm a creature of imbalance, prone to running, and yet sternly fastened.
I was never homesick as a child or a student. It's this house that has taught me that. My years teaching were reft with that, with hiraeth, that longing that is not quite homesickness and not quite nostalgia, and all about the hunger for belonging. Travelling to join the marquis mid-week, I watched cormorants on Lac Leman from the windows of the train and counted castles in case he had missed them on his trip out (he had missed the biggest, it transpired -- it's harder to see from the road than the train). I love to be in new places, to explore, to see. And I love not to be away, and the two are never mutually content.
But it was pleasant, mostly (too much food), and my skiing is improving (because this is a skill, so I must be always studying and learning: this is not just about fun). The snow was good and on the last day we found a wide red bowl where I could practice off-piste within my comfort zone for terrain. (For the record, I can ski many blacks on piste -- though I do not go near double black diamonds -- but I have little experience with fresh powder, as Europe is not prone to it. I like moguls but am slow with them and inelegant; I count as a high intermediate and that suits me.)
And then we came home. The cats were pleased to see us and our cat feeder -- the wonderful
elfwhistletree was relieved, as Horus had hidden from her consistently and she was concerned. He was home: he was just being shy. I have a short story to finish and a scary Celtic novel to confront. En avant...