Stranger things have happened

Are you paying close attention?

I am unwell. Again. I half-joke to people that I’m constantly ill in winter. One mild cold straight onto the next, sniffles that linger until March. It was only a mere month ago I told you I didn’t feel well. What a bore. I hate for you to think of Drafting as Groundhog Day or The Truman Show. Perhaps my drawing attention to it and my eternal apologising only annoys you and makes things worse? Someone quick, take the shovel out of my hands. 

Not to lay it on thick but this time is most definitely worse than the last, too. Characterised by a never-ending series of almost-sneezes making not only my face but my whole body convulse in pain and frustration. Last night I involuntarily spilled a glass of water over myself and my bed. When I tell you I was this close to screaming my head off… Let this be a warning to stock up on vitamin C supplements and plenty of Night Nurse. 

Annoyingly because of this, my brain has been foggy and ideas absent, lost somewhere in my misty mind. I find it much harder in winter generally to conjure up something novel or new. Life’s pace moves slower. Wisps of inspiration are stunted by the cold, captured and trapped beneath the surface of an icy lake frozen over. A thick, glassy, impenetrable layer preventing me from getting through. Instead, inspiration tends only to find me during this season whilst in stillness. This is not time for hunting; it’s a stakeout. I sit, watch, and listen. Wait, observe and bear witness. Paying close attention to all that’s going on around me. The lives being lived in parallel to my own as I ride the bus, catch the tube, or get my oat latte from the coffee shop. 

Photo by Kevin Hendersen on Unsplash

Today I followed a woman off the bus. Not in a creepy way. We had the same stop and he just got off first. We ended up walking in the same direction for a little bit. She was older, her hair greying, and she was dressed head to toe in black. She walked with slow but determined strides. I first noticed her before we got off. As our bodies swayed with the motion of the bus pulling in. Some people can be so aware of themselves. Catching the gaze of others, eyes darting about assessing their surroundings. Wanting to see who might be watching them. Wanting to know if they’ve made an impression on random strangers or not. She was the opposite. Subtly oozing self-confidence and a certain nonchalance. 

As we continued walking a little she started to make these random movements, first with her head, then with her hands and then her whole arms. Was something wrong? A stroke? Should I intervene? I quickly realised her movements were rhythmic. She was listening to music. She was bopping, dancing and grooving about her day as I wondered what the song could be. 

We fast approached the corner where I turned off. All over in a moment, a very brief encounter. I love seeing the world through someone else’s eyes. An entirely new perspective. I love filling in the gaps about who they are, what their lives are like and the story of what led to our paths crossing in this way. And just like that, a woman on the bus becomes the foundation for a story, a poem, a character… a Substack newsletter, perhaps. 

To A Stranger

Walt Whitman

Passing stranger! you do not know how longingly I look upon you,

You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking, (it comes to me as of a dream,)

I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you,

All is recall’d as we flit by each other, fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured,

You grew up with me, were a boy with me or a girl with me,

I ate with you and slept with you, your body has become not yours only nor left my body mine only,

You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as we pass, you take of my beard, breast, hands, in return,

I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you when I sit alone or wake at night alone,

I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again,

I am to see to it that I do not lose you.

But oh, what’s this I’ve just found? Inspired by the magical train journey and mini break while in Edinburgh last week I wrote down some thoughts for future newsletter content. Hallelujah for past me. I love you, I love you! Reader, you should be in for a treat next week. And no more stalking old ladies off the bus for me, yippee!