It's a cool and foggy morning. I almost "mist" it (get it? ☺) but the sound of a car arriving got me out of bed. It's the handyman who'll demolish the old verandah before the rebuild begins in earnest.
The four quotes I received came to nothing. So I priced and ordered the material myself and looked around for a carpenter to put it all together, but none wanted to do a labour-only job as they could not charge me some outrageous lump sum but were stuck with their hourly rate. In the end, I called on my old handyman "mate" with whom I had built the pond house, the "Red House", the outdoor gym, the jetty and the jetty house, and "Melbourne". He's not a qualified carpenter but can turn his hand to almost anything. I know his shortcomings but if I keep an eye on him, he'd do a good job and he needs the money. I promised him seven thousand dollars for the completed work. Better him than the others.
The house is still asleep. I am alone in the kitchen. The porridge is bubbling on the stove and on the radio plays what used to be Padma's favourite music but is now mine. It's an Isla-Grant-kind of morning.
Being alone on such a morning is not loneliness. It's strength. It's the art of valuing your own presence, of becoming your own friend, listening to your thoughts, and not constantly seeking external validation. I did some of my best jobs when I was still single. I could give all of my attention to my work without being distracted by domestic clutter.
Many people fear silence. They fear dining alone or an empty seat beside them in the cinema. But these moments shape us the most. Being alone teaches us independence, self-sufficiency, and freedom.
Those who've mastered the art of solitude can master anything.
