You will know that those lines end East Coker, the second of the Four Quartets. This week they encapsulate my emotional revivalism after a period of preoccupation and concern.
You will have noticed a six-month has elapsed since the last, and opening entry. I haven't been hidden away. I've been to a number of good shows, and to Malmo and Copenhagen in March. But I have had, since May last year, a continued concern about my mother whose health has seriously deteriorated in that period. This culminated in her entering a residential home just before Easter, and last week we emptied her flat and gave up possession.
As I was carrying that through I realised that now I finally had no family home to return to. I had run away to London a long time ago but it always had been there. Now no longer. That was suddenly a little traumatic, and by the end of the week I was overwhelmed by a weariness of the soul.
In consequence I didn't, as I'd initially planned, head down to Hastings and see my friend Wes. Instead I spent a little of Sunday in Spitalfields at the Pride and then we walked down to the Radcliffe Highway and the Hawksmoor church there before it got cold to continue to Wapping as we'd intended.
What I did do is realise I'd reached an ending, and a sense of closure enveloped me. From thence it was but a step to a sense of a new beginning. It's coming up to ten years in my current billet, starting and ending up in Holborn; to what purpose? I realised it's time to wipe that malign dust from my feet.
Here we go...
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