And Changeful as the Sea.

And so the sun has set on the 3rd Mother's Day since mum died. You will recall my views from posts in the last 2 years. Social media is a danger zone to be avoided. I chatted with Katie who lost her mum last year. Neither of us like this day but we cannot avoid it.

I am down in Kent with my dad. There was no point even trying to book Sunday lunch out so I decided to cook. We invited Beka's mum Anne who would have been on her own. After a long leisurely lunch we are all full of roast pork, good Spanish red and a splendid pudding dad made of granola, yoghurt and blueberries. We had a lovely afternoon.

When Anne went home dad and I took a stroll down to the beach. Oh yes, the sea I yearn for. Britten's stunning evocation of the sea in Peter Grimes filled my thoughts at the awesome power of the water. It was the sea that took mum very nearly 3 years ago.

In the greying twilight shadows I remembered the haunting Michael Head song The Singer. His eyes were grey and far away, and changeful as the sea. And changeful as the sea. The beach and that sea witnessed my utter darkness of  yesteryear. Today that darkness is far away despite memories of mum. It has been a far better day than I expected. A wander into town to see my friend Leigh in The Three Mariners is coming up before going to say goodbye to Sue and Duncan in The Butt of Sherry. Homeward bound on the morrow.

I Heard a Voice.