One hour to write up a day. Maple leaves, early morning blue I did this before, in 2013. Some things haven’t changed. My beloved still brings me a mug of Earl Grey at around 5.15 am. Pre-Covid habits of getting up early for his commute to work haven’t deserted us, and at this time of… Continue reading An hour for a day
We are all reacting to the rapid changes in our lives, as social distancing and self-isolation, and then CV-19 lockdown, settle on us. People talk about stomachs churning, moods swinging, about not being able to focus, feeling a sense of unreality, a disconnect. Fatigue. We talk of not sleeping well, sleeping too much, feeling anger,… Continue reading Same ocean, different boats: loss and grief in the time of Corona
My relationship with time (never a straightforward one, since I don’t really subscribe to linear time) becomes complex as I accrue within my memory and my body more and more evidence that time does, indeed, accumulate and pass. But as well as passing, time returns. Trees bud their leaves year by year, birthdays (of the… Continue reading Timepiece
Our grown-up son is, for the moment, living alongside us in a small Studio that we converted from a garage a few months ago. The arrangement suits us all. He cycles to and from his two local jobs, he’s learning to drive, and as a musician he can make all the music he likes without… Continue reading Motherhood, time and sandwiches
I’m fond of the homely rituals that come with midwinter, Christmas and New Year. I especially love decorating the house, putting up and taking down the tree and rediscovering cinnamon angels and glass baubles with their tender, freighted memories of other Christmases shared with other people in other places. It’s a time of so many… Continue reading Breading in the New Year
Last night I spent three strange hours in front of my MacBook. Normally, time with my MacBook is at worst obligatory (bill paying, filing tax returns, marking papers – none of which is particularly strange) and at best treasured (writing, reading, listening to music). So – yesterday evening I co-delivered my first live online teaching… Continue reading Virtual class
Right now I am at the end of a particular kind of tether – the house rental tether. Last year we decided to sell our home of seventeen years in order to downsize. Having tried to buy various houses, each of which fell through for a different reason, and not wanting to lose our buyer,… Continue reading Water, water, everywhere
Sometimes good things come out of disappointments. Sara and I had planned a Writers in Residence event at the University of Brighton for late April, themed around collaboration and site-specific work. Speakers and space were booked, but the date was too close to exams, and on the night we found ourselves in a small circle… Continue reading Making ‘Vacant Possession’ – a site-specific performance to say goodbye to a house (written by Sara Clifford and Clare Best, directed by Nicola Blackwell)
I returned home yesterday from Ripon College, Cuddesdon, in Oxfordshire. I think I’ll be going there again. What a privilege it is to be able to abandon routines, even for a few days. I’ve done a couple of terrific Arvon courses over the years (one was when I was putting together my first full collection,… Continue reading Apples, wires and being alone
I can’t quite believe I’m now seven years post-op. What is it about seven years? Some urban myth that every single cell in the body has renewed itself in that time (skin is quick to renew itself in seven days, bones take longer – several to seven years, and it seems most other organs are… Continue reading Seven-year itch
Clare Best 