I went for a walk on Sunday afternoon and decided to take a short-cut through the grounds of the old British military hospital (that now serves as a school). As I swung my legs over the low boundary wall, something brown darted off at high speed and stopped a few metres to the left of me. At first I thought it was a rat and was about to let out a scream, until I realise that the thing had stopped to sniff the air. I turned and glanced in its direction. It was well camouflaged in the undergrowth but its big, twitching ears gave it away. It was a rabbit. I started to walk as slowly and silently as I could towards it but it ran off again, hiding under a bush. I could still see it through the foliage. So I went down on my haunches and observed it. In true bunny fashion its nose didn't stop twitching nor did its radar-like ears stop moving as it picked up every chirp and twitter with which the sparrows and robins were carelessly filling the mid-afternoon air. I wished I could get close enough to the cute little creature to catch it and take it home but I knew that as soon as I took the first step to get closer to it, it would bolt away. I wondered how it had got there and hoped it would stay safe. There is nothing in the wild that breaks my heart more than a defenceless rabbit. So, whispering a swift prayer for the rabbit's well-being, I broke into a brisk walk. I needed to walk off last night's supper.
Last week was my birthday and on Saturday night my husband took me out to dinner. He likes to spoil me. Tarragon is one of my favourite restaurants, so that's were we went. It is situated in what used to be a pretty fishing village called St Paul's Bay. Unfortunately, the village has turned into a town choked with apartments and summer homes. During the crazy season we avoid it like the proverbial plague but on cold winter nights, well, you can almost imagine that none of the recent development exists and walk on the deserted promenade with just the sighing, splashing and gurgling noises of a very restless sea for company. For even on this windless night it is never still, never silent. A bit like me, really.
So here we are, on February's threshold, and with an overwhelming desire to explore alsmot burting my heart. Sometimes the longing to escape beyond the sea for a few days just takes hold of me. That's when I wish I had wings - just to go, to see, to experience. But alas, we cannot simply take flight, like the angels. We need to plan, buy plane tickets, book lodging, keep to some kind of itinerary (only because my husband makes me because, if left to my own whims, I would just wander around, get lost and discover things which are not on any map). So for the time being, I'll be content with dreaming, while the restlessness inside me continues to grow; until it is all-encompassing, like the sea.