Author diaries

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1 September 2003 Entry: "Kites"

Too cloudy to see Mars, even though we stayed up late in our chilly garden staring into space, some of us in pyjamas. British weather has a lot to answer for.
We were up at Shaftoe Crags flying kites yesterday. Very peaceful and calming. As I watched the pink, green and red triangles strain against the blue sky, metaphors and similes kept popping into my head: teenagers are like kites - the more you pull them to you the more they fly away, or sex: if there’s no wind, your kite wont fly, but then the gentlest little gust can surprise you, send it soaring. Met a couple who said they’d seen lots of people walking dogs before, but never walking a kite.
But my metaphors went nowhere, like my kite. I should be thinking Small, for a poem I’ve been asked to write for National Poetry Day in October. I’ve started a list, (small one) of ideas - small talk, my mother never could do that, small minds. Small things I’ve lost - teeth, tonsils, eyesight. That’s not such a small thing to lose, but once you’ve lost it, you can’t find small things.
The door bell has just interrupted my writing - it’s the builders. So, just as the boys start back at school, we have a new set of obstacles to mental peace.