I have put rat poison in the drawers in the kitchen for the mice, and will renew the poison in the attic later. Yesterday I dug holes in the garden and put tins with beer in to attract and drown slugs. I have a couple but hope to get more. My killer instinct is clearly working overtime here.
While browsing the tv channels I have come across a film of Cat Stevens 1976 tour. I used to love Cat Stevens, and listening to him brings back all sorts of memories. When this film was made I was 23, younger than my youngest child is now. 1976 was the heatwave summer and we went camping. We were living near Liverpool then, but came to St Davids in Pembrokeshire for a week of our holiday where the temperatures soared up to 96F and Mike got mild sunstroke. Later in that year we met up with lots of family in Norfolk at the end of August, and didn't roll the groundsheet properly, so the following morning woke up to discover our airbed was in a lake as the groundsheet had carefully funnelled all the torrential rain into the tent. We paddled out and dried off in the parental caravan, during the day we made a bonfire and prepared for a barbq, but it began to rain again. However there were far too many of us to get into the caravan so we put on cagouls, got umbrellas and had the barbq in the rain. The pictures still bring that weekend vividly to life. The Mike and I went to York and it turned really cold, so we spent the whole evening in the pub (not great hardship), then put on every garment we possessed to try to get warm enough to sleep when we got back to the tent. A holiday of extremes.
I wonder what Cat Stevens feels when he looks back on that period of his life, or when he hears a song from his pop career, now that he is such a serious religious person. It must be like looking at a stranger, not at yourself. Even I, who haven't really changed much, look back at my 23 year old self with a sense of wonder, curiosity, and occassionally with a tinge of regret. He is now singing Sad Lisa, which takes me back to the sitting room of my parent's house. It is like opening a photograph album - music can lift you up and transport you to the place, the mood, the time when you heard it, or when it had an impact on you. It bypasses the rational part of your brain and memory and takes you elsewhere with no effort. You may not always like all the music of your past but it has power over you.
The other odd thing is that St David's is now our nearest town when we are at Brian's cottage. It is where we usually go for groceries, to have a coffee etc. One of our frequent walks takes us past the campsite which Mike and I stayed in. 23 years later. That 23 year old me would never have guessed. It is very circular in a way, and St David's is such a small place, and so far away from the places I have lived and worked to have such a significance. I find it curious and the natural desire to make patterns of life, even when life is actually random, makes me try to see more in it than coincidence, but coincidence it is.Or not - who can tell.