It was as if I had been ruptured: away from Limedale, after 5 and a half months; taken from there, before my time. Whilst I know it had to be thus,I still miss the self-contained, private garden-Worzel Gummidge like though it was-with Pussandra, the cat, calling around whenever it suited her (sporadically) for company, as I sat on my patio, even /only in the winter/very early spring.
Transported, sans volition,to another home; from necessity. Unfinished business; rupturing time and space..
That was then (but “time past is still present in time future”, the Derridean trace via T.S Eliot!); this is NOW. I TRY(reverse psychology) and take rapture in : the communal(this time) garden(beautiful in its own way); the decidedly Gothic, Dracula’s castle lookalike house; the fat birds and ducks(of indistinct provenance!); the squirrels; the open view on the vast tree-lined, splendid avenue, branching off Sefton Park. The wildlife may be a sanctuary; the landlord by no means so (though an improvement on the last): this complicates my reactions and blurs time boundaries, which is why it is even more crucial to separate times and places and celebrate the differences and the good in my new spacious, leafy environment.
So, TRYING to see the advantages; there ARE many. Others: the back of my new flat looks out on two cute, titchy mews houses, complete with kitsch garden furniture and (once sighted) a hedgehog!; Lark Lane(my Boho heartland and homeland: I got back here!) is a stone’s throw away . The flat is BIG: I made a bedsit WITHIN the flat, the bedroom being so big; AND a queer and Sebald study; oh, and a black and silver Gothic-style(loosely!)/homage to East Berlin hallway, not to mention my razzle-dazzle (ship) coloured bathroom!So it IS beautiful, despite certain exigencies.
I know I need to overcome the rupture to feel the rapture (I am gradually getting there!). Probably, not force it: let it happen, naturally. I need to compartmentalize.
Towards an (urban ) Utopia!