She knew exactly what I meant—her progress so far has been amazing when eight months ago it seemed all a bit dire, and though some cancer still remains and more treatment is to come, there is no reason not to think that she will not recover, and that the tide will bring her to a safe harbour.
It gave me pause that I even used such a phrase—perhaps it’s the influence of spending time by the sea where the tide dictates so much activity: when to sail, and where, and for how long: the optimal journey is when the tide is on always on your side.
Before living part-time in Cowes I never cared about tide tables much, and now I find I seek out high tide times to plan my walks; there’s such delight when the waves brought on by the high tide splash the Solent over the Parade making adults and children giggle when the water hits the pavement and, occasionally, a passerby.
I am in Cowes listening to the rain hammer against the windows while Hurricane Irene is moving closer to my family and friends in New York and New Jersey. I realise I am, at least a little, homesick. There’s stuff going on with my family, and I’m feeling like the outsider looking in rather than a participant. I don’t know that anything would be different if I were there, but there’s a slight uneasiness to not being able to influence a situation because of physical proximity. It’s a big ocean that separates us. We all recognise the power of a face-to-face meeting to a Skype one, though the latter is, as the Brits like to say, brilliant.
I don’t think my longing for a bit of home is because I missed the earthquake—I clearly recall the one in 1985, and I’ll tell you why—it was the 19th of October, the morning of my (first) wedding. It was a 4.0 magnitude, and I did feel it and am certain that I joked that the earth moved under my feet on the day of my wedding . . . which ended in divorce not quite 10 years later (his idea, not mine).
I doubt it’s because there’s a hurricane coming to my home state—I remember a few of those, too, and am not anxious to experience another, although, I secretly enjoyed being in Cape May, New Jersey, for more than one nor’easter—even seeking them out by driving the 70 miles or so south—where the water was just ferocious, with huge waves that crashed well beyond the beach and washed the boardwalk clean.
We all have our moments of feeling a bit out of kilter, not quite running with the tide. Best to accept the feeling, take a deep breath, be thankful for what is good about life and, eventually, get back in stride. I may not be running with the tide at this moment, but in hours it will change, and so will I.
Do I owe you news from the end of Cowes Week? Coh Karek finished 10th in her class, of 12 Contessas, and the crew agreed it was all a wonderful week of sailing. There were handshakes all around (as men do) and promises of sailing again in next year’s regatta. My own take: I was glad to have experienced it, and thoroughly enjoyed the company, and of course the parties—we’ve scored yet another Mount Gay Rum red cap by queuing up early for one; now if I can only find last year’s! Mornings were leisurely, with breakfasts cooked by any number of different crew who were happy to take to the frying pan for bacon and eggs.
In the end it was a bit of an exhausting week for what was meant to be a holiday for me, and I will likely give some thought to what next year holds. I’m secretly hoping the races start earlier so a morning person like me can begin her day some time before 11! To be fair, I could have just got on with it even with crew sipping tea and reading one of three papers that we had each morning (FT, Guardian, Telegraph), but it didn’t seem quite right, and, I did have plenty of time to myself while the sailing took place to stroll the high street or watch events from the shore.
And since then it’s been mostly time spent in London—a nice change of pace, actually, to sit in the garden or as Tim and I did explore a bit of the city we hadn’t before. We took a short trip to Putney (home of David Clegg, deputy PM, and St Mary’s church, site of the Putney Debates in 1647 where a group of radicals advocated changes to their constitution to give more power to the people . . . an oversimplification, perhaps, so if you’re interested go here).
We also briefly followed the sculpture trail and took a short walk along the Thames Path, watching as a few rowing clubs oared within shouting distance—we could see that some of them were in costume but never did determine why there were men in ladies’ costume and, I think, Smurfs. It was a mixed-weather day, and we found ourselves in a pub called The Rocket, with a view of the Thames, to wait out the raindrops before the sun came out brightly again.
Perhaps there’s more I should catch you up on--Tim will be disappointed that I haven’t captured every event we’ve done together—LOL--but I’ve been feeling a bit uninspired about giving the “blow-by-blow” of restaurants, events, etc.
I think, for now, I’ll just run with the tide, until I find my footing again about what inspires me to come back to post.
