I went back to Corfu for a couple of weeks last month and didn’t have time to write about it though now I do. If I thought too much about Corfu, and leaving it, I’d want to sob. Going back reminded me of all the things I love there, friends came to eat, Sian is doing a brilliant job as the foreman, and it was great to spend time together and go and eat croissants at Pelagia’s bakery and go dancing. Then Naar arrived, then Laura, then my sister. So the house wasn’t too full, but doing what it does best, friends being together, feeling the support of collective living, having someone to share time or a conversation with. And enjoy the lovely restaurants, and the grapefruit cocktail that I wouldn’t be allowed if the blood tests had been okay to take the pills. Once I got back to Manchester - after 2 weeks of no additional supplements or pills my liver was up to the task of the next 3 weeks of targeted therapy. While I don’t love the treatment, it’s tolerable, but oh how I’d like my legs back, without all the stiffness of ankles and joints.
Christina was also in Arillas and we painted together for 3 days with Philip Nirav. Through art, I got to see the intrusion of cancer, encroaching pink paint into a filigree of blue and white, and also how it might save me from myself. Doing art therapy again with Ayelet gave me a sense of an ending but who knows how that will actually turn our to be...or when? There’s only so much energy and the house has defeated me as I don’t know what needs doing next, but I’ve run out of va va voom and perhaps of willingness. And I’m reminded that I can still enjoy all I love about being in Arillas and Greece, without the responsibility for a building built in 1871. So now let’s trust it sells with as much magic and commitment as I bought it.
I came home, did a fantastic Conscious Kink workshop with Sarah Sophia, discovering the wow of foot worship and my inner submissive. That offended a few of my prejudices for sure. Then I did a quick turn around and headed to Venice to see some art at the Biennale and to see if I could still travel alone. I feel proud that I sussed the vaporetto, as I’d been unusually nervous about travel. I saw some pavilions that brought moments of joy and peace, and others that were incomprehensible. In the Japan pavilion I got to carry a fake baby around, and in the Egyptian and Australian pavilions I loved the quiet and simplicity of granite sculpture and water lily leaves. On reflection, maybe I would have liked a friend there, and more warm clothes to see St Marks Square at night. For a couple of evenings at dusk I ordered a drink and marvelled at the sky. Happy moments.
