I’ve recently taken to listening to internet radio in my kitchen, often late at night with a glass of wine and I am freshly astonished how music that I have literally not heard for years can immediately evoke a feeling I have left alone (or in some cases been strenuously avoiding) almost at once. Yes I know this is not profound but it’s still rattling to be transported to that exact place in time when I first experienced the hornet’s sting of unrequited love, abject, soul twisting misery and of course a ‘70s haircut. (Those last two may have been connected come to think of it …)
I’ve been thinking a lot about fear lately since it’s something I manage every day in its varying forms. Many of these random thoughts may be highly ridiculous; for example, although I dearly love scallops, ever since I read about some people developing an anaphylactic reaction to them later in life the pure joy in eating these plump, succulent pillows of the sea has now been tempered a bit – I even hesitate to order them sometimes. (More often though I still do and eat the first few quickly – just in case – and then settle down to really enjoy). Other recurring fears revolve around my children, relationships past and present, money, plumbing, my own profile and oh yes that small nagging one about death (including all the spiritual and dietary considerations that I may or may not be dropping the ball on).