The Ups and Downs of the Isle of Wight

Bus ride to the ferry to the Isle took us through Portsmouth. Made me think of Dickens and Copperfield. Not the magician. Though he’s cool too.
Ferry to Isle. Sunlight and wind and cigarettes and friends.
Isle of Wight. Bus takes the road to where the little Roman helmet points but turns back because can’t fit between two parked cars. Drove all the way around the island. Back to the same exact road. Manages to fit between same exact two parked cars. Horrah! Lunch and Roman ruins for all!
Low point. Roman ruins would be could be should be fascinating. But leg muscles are mutinying and patience is capsizing. Medusa isn’t straight in her mosaic on the floor and I still haven’t gotten a straight answer over who made the joke about it being just like all of us.
More sun. More bus. Hotel by the beach is beautiful. Room small but comfortable. Feels like vacation. Walk to the beach, walk along the beach alone. Feet are tired of standing still and meandering so brisk hard walk in the sand is a relief. Trying to walk over rocks to join in becomes a torture and I turn back. Feet are still bruised. Bloody rocks.
Back to hotel. Seven minutes in hot water heaven. Wrote outside. Read. Moved inside. Cold. Trivial Pursuit – which was to be pursued for hours yet – getting warmed up in the background of Jeanette Winterson’s “Sexing the Cherry” which blurred before my eyes.
Low point. Dinner. Embarrassing, as usual. Making a fool of myself. Food. Food food food. Why can’t you eat like a normal human being? Do you eat salmon? Salad? Vegetables? Potatoes? Sausages? No? No?! REALLY?! Well what DO you eat?
Walk on the beach. Confusion. Friend jealousy, feeling out of place, but also out of comfort zone and bravely proud. Good. Odd. Good.
Back. Bottle of wine split down the middle without breaking one shard of glass. Tension? Cher from Clueless thinks wine makes you feel sexy. Made me feel spinny and inarticulate. Not proud of my honesty, because honesty changes every time I dig deeper into my thoughts to uncover something else I hadn’t thought of before. Apologizing sincerely for honesty erases it and makes it dishonest – not the apology, but the honesty.
Sleepywinetime.
Morning breakfast bus bus Osborne losing people getting lost finding people lunch. Bus bus bus bus ferry bus.

Back in Oxford. Last term. Dear oh dear oh dear oh dear.

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One thought on “The Ups and Downs of the Isle of Wight

  1. I love this post, and I love the way it’s written, and I love your thoughts, and I love you. Hope you’re doing better and ok, or better than ok. Hope you’re doing great. Sending lots of hugs. xoxoxoxo

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