Sometimes words stay with you. Anticyclone is one of those words, a phenomenon that must have been explained to me on a bright blue sky kind of day, but one that needed further explanation for its equivocal coldness. One days like that I get anticyclonic deja vu. Today was one of those days. Intangible sunshine, hopeful blues, freezing bones.
School happened. The boys and I donned our anticyclonic gear (thermals and coats back on under strippable layers of sweatshirts, coats and t shirts in case it deigned to warm up) and headed out to the newly refurbished skate park. They scooted, fuelled by drip-fed biscuits and I balanced a skateboard on my bike like I was going to take off.
We made it there and then revelled in the novelty. There was even a cafe there: someone bought me a coffee; I sat on a bench; a friend joined. It actually felt good in an artificial grass, concrete ramp and spinning playground equipment kind of way. Like a warped maternity leave but with a 10 and 7 year old. Why then am I still carrying everything?
On the way home we crossed The Flats (no mean feat on a scooter), observed a swan festival on Jubilee Pond, two left-field teenage cygnets branching off in one of February’s glacial puddle-ponds and I took in the front gardens of Forest Gate, still trying to choose shrubs for the front garden. Impatient for them to achieve mature status.
All in all we made it through the day. Thoroughly exhausted. Still haven’t sown the seeds.