It's ironic that I crave silence but I do. It's been weeks since I had a morning, let alone a day, of quiet. Just me, the dogs, a mug of Rooibos tea, a book, wool, a crochet hook.
I switched off this morning while J was at the Lincolnshire Show, E was with a friend sleeping in after a sleepover, M was in Birmingham. I don't need real sound. My brain fills in what might be audible, much like phantom pain or feeling in a missing limb I imagine. As soon as I step out into the deck my brain fills with imaginary bird sound, the sound of a tractor ploughing, the odd car perhaps, none of which I can actually hear. Most pleasant though is the absence of conversation. 24/7 it is a tiring activity, especially when it's mostly one way :-) ie. he talks but he doesn't listen, not often anyway.
I need quiet time to just think. The last few weeks or is it months? have been a complete blur of travel and cricket matches. I promise myself some thinking time when I go to bed but by then I'm too tired for coherent thought.
So this morning I had my think and in amongst the more serious thoughts was crochet. How can I cram it in when I'm enjoying my books so much? It seems to be all or nothing, all crochet or all reading. I dug out this little textured left over ball and a hook and started making up a simple motif. When I've arrived at a motif I like and can remember I'm going to use up all my DK leftovers. Nothing taxing, just something to ease me back into it.