Behind the blinds the morning sun was muscling its way along the horizon. The winter days are losing the battle and are growing exponentially longer. I don’t mind dark nights but much prefer a clean, bright start to the day. Fifty or so press-up later, having showered and eaten a bowl of something tasteless, I was dressed and ready for the day ahead. Thumbscrew needed her lift to Hockley station to which I gladly obliged. I made Jasmine a cup of tea. She looked tired. “The morning sun when it’s in your eyes really shows your age.” She still looks fantastic though and not at all like a woman in her mid-fifties. It seems age, or the way we used to think of aging, has changed. What was cool at thirty now seems as good at fifty and in many cases even better.
Some things improve with age, cheese for example and fine wines but the M25 doesn’t. It is less a conduit to ease traffic around the London periphery but more a tourniquet that throttles my patience; today though Ludwig accompanied me courtesy of a violin concerto. The man was a true genius rich with ideas. There are only a few composers, and I count my generation’s bag of singer songwriters in that mix, that comes even close.
As the arse end of Essex crosses the Dartford Bridge, shoving its rancid forefinger into the nose of the garden of England, so the countryside begins a display to impress the weariest of hearts. Kent is a fragrant flower fulfilling every Englishman’s dream of rose filled quadrangles and neatly mowed lawns. Then, as Kent has seduced you with its gentle charm the rolling hills of Surrey turn a trick to impress you with thoughts of Turner and meadow larks.
Walton Oaks looks like a lover ready and waiting and even if she is my dominatrix it feels good to run the car along her curves. Today’s drive has been exhilarating, the scenery fantastic, the music even better. Life for me is now a seesaw, an emotional fairground ride that has as many ups as it does downs. I am learning to live with that side of my nature as best I can.
all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?