Why Not?

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In real life, living impetuously without any planning or forethought whatsoever is generally considered a bad idea. But must I remind you again that this is not real life? I wouldn't exactly call my state of existence for the past two weeks 'careless', just 'carefree'. I have these moments of complete euphoria when I'm walking home from AC Musical practice and look back at the castle against the plum-coloured smogless night sky, or when I'm running along the cliffs during morning assembly (they always send us the agenda for assemblies by email anyway, and hearing Nick Lush lecture us once again on how sneaking into the castle after 10:15 is not allowed vs. running for a good hour along the cliffs at sunrise has never really been a dilemma for me) and the sun rises over the Bristol Channel so that I can just barely see England through the iridescent blue morning fog; how did I actually make it here? For the first time, I feel like I'm in the right place at the right time, not spending all my time consumed by empty regrets or wishing I was somewhere else. Yes, by now I'm perfectly willing to just trust fate, or my own sheer impulsiveness, or whatever it was that made me spontaneously decide to go to the Latin dance activity this past Tuesday. If I had to actually prove that living here is not, in fact, real life, then those two hours would be Exhibit A. Let the defendant state now that in real life, she actually HAS inhibitions. She probably would not even attend a Latin dance class in the first place, and she would definitely be far too awkward and embarrassed to actually pick up the twists and pops and rhythms effortlessly enough to get chosen out of the entire class to represent the activity in the Dance Against Cancer. Luckily (fatefully?), she did end up halfway through the class in the arms of the only boy who had actually taught Latin dance before and who knew even more complicated moves than the instructors, so naturally she ended up looking good...but still, he chose me because he said I was a natural, so there! Ha! The defense rests. Well, not really. I also went surfing on Friday, which I'll sort of gloss over as it didn't go nearly as well. It doesn't really fit with the defendant's argument anyway because it wasn't impetuous. I was signed up officially for it, and sort of wished I had just gone to aerobics or music for fun once the fin of my board broke off and I had to carry it all the way back up to the beach and lift the huge metal grille to the shed myself twenty minutes before everyone else (but I got to take a really long, hot shower in the extra time). My surfing style so far can best be described as 'creative', in which I uniquely catch the wave perfectly on the side in the middle of an attempt to turn my board around and float sideways back to shore flailing about like I've discovered a crab in my wetsuit as the force of the water shoves my extra-extra-large hood over my eyes (which provides me at least with the comforting impression that no one can see me). The porridge with sultanas and honey I made myself afterwards was the sweetest and most deserved that I had ever tasted. Most of my daily rituals here have to do with food, like my Saturday lunch with Rosh on this perfect little hollowed out grassy spot on a stone wall halfway back from Llantwit. Serendipitously, we discovered last week Saturday that Somerfield's brings out all its fresh baguettes at about half past twelve. This Saturday, we waited in the bakery aisle with our Boursin cheese (which is about a third as expensive here as it is in the States - the exact opposite of EVERYTHING else) for fifteen minutes until the steaming metal trolley came out. We bought a lovely silver cheese knife from the charity shop, and green grapes in order to make it seem really continental and really worthy of repeating. Which it is, as long as it stays constantly sunny like this. I don't really feel like reporting on the weather because a)there are ALWAYS more interesting things to report on and b)it would just depress me anyway because it's stunningly beautiful and shockingly warm outside right now and I've had to stay in the castle all day (I won't use the term 'cooped up', because I do realise the irony of bein 'cooped up' in the castle). So far, the only purpose of the musical so far is as something that I can be embarrassed by/blackmailed with later in life, i.e. next year, but I still diligently went to practice at 9:30 this morning (cruel, cruel!). It was sort of lucky that I did because otherwise I would have forgotten to go to my gamelan lesson again, which was at 1 in the same place as the musical practice. And why, you may ask, do I have so much time to write now, right now? It's my first day of library service! NO ONE comes in to check out books on Sunday afternoons; no one, for that matter, comes inside to do anything on an afternoon like this. But I can always have supper outside, under the tree where the first daffodils are already starting to bloom. I've never sat there before, and my random impulses and whims do seem to be serving me pretty well these days...

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