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I'm a morning person. It only takes a few sun's rays and the promise of a warm day to get me out of bed. Even a compelling thought or idea that I have on waking will propel me out from under the covers - with the anticipation of coffee in some morning cafe. I can't stay at home - I need to get out. Even when I had a job to go to, I would make sure I got there at least an hour before my work started, just so I could get into the right spirit for the day. Now I don't have to go to work, so the incentive to get up is irresistible.
Evenings are a different matter - then I'm so comfortable at home, I really find it difficult to leave the house after 8pm. Then I get that "snug in the womb" feeling.
This morning was a typical scenario. Spring sunlight, seducing . . . still a little chill in the air, but definitely what the long winter has been keeping from us. It takes me 15 minutes to casually stroll to cafe Van Mechelen. This is my new "morning cafe". New in the neighborhood, doors open daily from 9am. It's got an old warehouse atmosphere, with walls of bare brick, cracked plaster and flaking paint. The chairs and tables saved from some old theatre-house. Barrels bottles and crates aren't hidden away in the cellar but serve as part of the decor. Always some light jazz playing over the sound-system - quiet enough to think by. New and old-classic posters adorn the walls.
It's a welcome place for young mother-groups with their toddlers; for suits with early business-meetings; for fortunate free-spirits like me who come to write. My place this morning is by the big glass doors which open out onto a half-covered terrace, and then onto the street and the canal. The chairs are far from comfortable, especially if you have a bad back, but I can stroll out onto the terrace to stretch, smoke a cigarette and let the warm sunrays soak through my closed eyelids. . . aaaaahhhh! my travelling is so close.
And George? I watched a documentary last night, made by Martin Scorcese, which included lots of Beatles footage, but with the main focus on George's story. What I came away with was an image of an ordinary man - battling constantly to just find himself. And the picture was the same for all his peers and friends - from John, Paul and Ringo, to Clapton and Dylan, to the Monty Python team . . . just ordinary people with ordinary problems, frustrations, insecurities, fears, doubts and questions. Their lives are just a little bigger, their profile is bigger, and their bank accounts are bigger (mostly), but still they are ordinary people like you and me. ORDINARY! It's good to always be aware of this.
Evenings are a different matter - then I'm so comfortable at home, I really find it difficult to leave the house after 8pm. Then I get that "snug in the womb" feeling.
This morning was a typical scenario. Spring sunlight, seducing . . . still a little chill in the air, but definitely what the long winter has been keeping from us. It takes me 15 minutes to casually stroll to cafe Van Mechelen. This is my new "morning cafe". New in the neighborhood, doors open daily from 9am. It's got an old warehouse atmosphere, with walls of bare brick, cracked plaster and flaking paint. The chairs and tables saved from some old theatre-house. Barrels bottles and crates aren't hidden away in the cellar but serve as part of the decor. Always some light jazz playing over the sound-system - quiet enough to think by. New and old-classic posters adorn the walls.
It's a welcome place for young mother-groups with their toddlers; for suits with early business-meetings; for fortunate free-spirits like me who come to write. My place this morning is by the big glass doors which open out onto a half-covered terrace, and then onto the street and the canal. The chairs are far from comfortable, especially if you have a bad back, but I can stroll out onto the terrace to stretch, smoke a cigarette and let the warm sunrays soak through my closed eyelids. . . aaaaahhhh! my travelling is so close.
And George? I watched a documentary last night, made by Martin Scorcese, which included lots of Beatles footage, but with the main focus on George's story. What I came away with was an image of an ordinary man - battling constantly to just find himself. And the picture was the same for all his peers and friends - from John, Paul and Ringo, to Clapton and Dylan, to the Monty Python team . . . just ordinary people with ordinary problems, frustrations, insecurities, fears, doubts and questions. Their lives are just a little bigger, their profile is bigger, and their bank accounts are bigger (mostly), but still they are ordinary people like you and me. ORDINARY! It's good to always be aware of this.
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