A Rare Occassion deserves a fine beverage
26 Jan 2006
On Tuesday night I had the rare priveledge of finding myself at home at 7:00pm all alone. My mum had taken the kids for a sleepover and Alan was working late.
I boiled the kettle and made an infusion called 'choc chip chai' from a company called t2. Jussi had kindly sent me this as a tribe gift in November, and I had yet to try it. My oh my I wish you could have been there to experience the smell. It was like a clovey, cinnamony chocolatey - a perfume like fragrance. It permeated the whole kitchen - and it was divine. I settled down outside on the back balcony with it's sweeping city rooftop view (I call it my Parisienne view - oh if only) and the distant ocean glimpses to enjoy the twighlight and do some knitting.
I saw and heard a wonderful and breathtaking flock of black cockatoos, heard the piercing chirrup of a hundred rainbow lorrikeets as they flashed past me, and listened to the background shrill of the crickets and the cicadas. There was the comforting clatter of the neighbours domesticity, a call for a pet cat, the slight crash of dishes in the sink, a bit of chatter.
The air was warm but not hot, and I was spared from too much humidity. The mosquitos even stayed away. I watched a glorious orb spinner make the most intricate delicate web right in front of me, when I say I love spiders I really mean I love watching spiders from a distance. I don't like touching spiders but I love watching them spin their webs.
Our TV was off, there were no meals to prepare, no dishes to put away, nobody to help bathe, no teeth to brush, no pj's to find, no tucking in to be done - it was almost two hours of pure unadulterated tranquil BLISS. I can't even remember the last time I spent an hour alone, seriously, it must be years. I enjoyed it so much I felt really guilty and like a neglectful mother. That's a catholic girl's school education for you.
When I was in my twenties I really hated being alone. If I ever found myself alone for any length of time in any of the shared houses I lived in then, I would grab the keys, make a few calls and find someone to hang out with. If that failed I'd go to my parents house. Later when I was in London I would visit the local pub where at any time either myself or one of my friends either worked, lived or dated someone who worked or lived there, or I would go to the gym.
But now it happens so rarely that it really is a pure luxury.
Sometimes, the simple things are often the best. I love that.
I boiled the kettle and made an infusion called 'choc chip chai' from a company called t2. Jussi had kindly sent me this as a tribe gift in November, and I had yet to try it. My oh my I wish you could have been there to experience the smell. It was like a clovey, cinnamony chocolatey - a perfume like fragrance. It permeated the whole kitchen - and it was divine. I settled down outside on the back balcony with it's sweeping city rooftop view (I call it my Parisienne view - oh if only) and the distant ocean glimpses to enjoy the twighlight and do some knitting.
I saw and heard a wonderful and breathtaking flock of black cockatoos, heard the piercing chirrup of a hundred rainbow lorrikeets as they flashed past me, and listened to the background shrill of the crickets and the cicadas. There was the comforting clatter of the neighbours domesticity, a call for a pet cat, the slight crash of dishes in the sink, a bit of chatter.
The air was warm but not hot, and I was spared from too much humidity. The mosquitos even stayed away. I watched a glorious orb spinner make the most intricate delicate web right in front of me, when I say I love spiders I really mean I love watching spiders from a distance. I don't like touching spiders but I love watching them spin their webs.
Our TV was off, there were no meals to prepare, no dishes to put away, nobody to help bathe, no teeth to brush, no pj's to find, no tucking in to be done - it was almost two hours of pure unadulterated tranquil BLISS. I can't even remember the last time I spent an hour alone, seriously, it must be years. I enjoyed it so much I felt really guilty and like a neglectful mother. That's a catholic girl's school education for you.
When I was in my twenties I really hated being alone. If I ever found myself alone for any length of time in any of the shared houses I lived in then, I would grab the keys, make a few calls and find someone to hang out with. If that failed I'd go to my parents house. Later when I was in London I would visit the local pub where at any time either myself or one of my friends either worked, lived or dated someone who worked or lived there, or I would go to the gym.
But now it happens so rarely that it really is a pure luxury.
Sometimes, the simple things are often the best. I love that.
posted by knitabulous at Thursday, January 26, 2006 |
