Just "BE"
I’ve taken to sitting up in my loft.
Last year I got floor boards installed as the builder said it would make a great storage area. It is an old leaky slate roof. Every now and again I hear a thump on the bedroom ceiling which indicates another lump of compo has lost its tenuous grip on a slate and succumbed to gravity. The slates need taking off then re-laying over felt. Some steels, a couple of velux windows, insulation and plasterboard and I’d have a fantastic extra room. However budget constraints mean I put buckets under the drips, and wait for that magical lottery win (must remember to buy a ticket.)
I went up there to check whether everything was ok, and ended up running the vacuum cleaner around to hoover up some of Leeds’ industrial history – black soot - which on windy days drifts down from rafters where it has lain since the days of tall chimneys and woollen mills.
When I finished I sat at the loft hatch with my legs dangling over the landing, ready to swing onto the ladder to come down. It was a hot day and I was a little tired from my exertions. I thought I’d just sit there a minute and cool down. As I sat there in the gloom I found my thoughts drifting aimlessly, admiring the geometric patterns made by the purlins and rafters, seeing the tiny twinkles of daylight inveigling through the cracked tiles, listening to the wind rattle the slates, birds landing on the roof, children playing next door, and cars passing in the street. I was totally captured in the moment. Whilst visually static, there was a constant play of sounds. Time flew by, and it was with a sigh that I eventually forced myself into action, down the ladder and back into the real world.
I’ve been back up a couple of times since, and the effect is undiminished. It is very relaxing. My fears, frets, and to-do lists vanish. I no longer need to “DO”, I can just “BE”. I hereby add it to my list of coping strategies. The loft and I – we’re going to be great friends.
Last year I got floor boards installed as the builder said it would make a great storage area. It is an old leaky slate roof. Every now and again I hear a thump on the bedroom ceiling which indicates another lump of compo has lost its tenuous grip on a slate and succumbed to gravity. The slates need taking off then re-laying over felt. Some steels, a couple of velux windows, insulation and plasterboard and I’d have a fantastic extra room. However budget constraints mean I put buckets under the drips, and wait for that magical lottery win (must remember to buy a ticket.)
I went up there to check whether everything was ok, and ended up running the vacuum cleaner around to hoover up some of Leeds’ industrial history – black soot - which on windy days drifts down from rafters where it has lain since the days of tall chimneys and woollen mills.
When I finished I sat at the loft hatch with my legs dangling over the landing, ready to swing onto the ladder to come down. It was a hot day and I was a little tired from my exertions. I thought I’d just sit there a minute and cool down. As I sat there in the gloom I found my thoughts drifting aimlessly, admiring the geometric patterns made by the purlins and rafters, seeing the tiny twinkles of daylight inveigling through the cracked tiles, listening to the wind rattle the slates, birds landing on the roof, children playing next door, and cars passing in the street. I was totally captured in the moment. Whilst visually static, there was a constant play of sounds. Time flew by, and it was with a sigh that I eventually forced myself into action, down the ladder and back into the real world.
I’ve been back up a couple of times since, and the effect is undiminished. It is very relaxing. My fears, frets, and to-do lists vanish. I no longer need to “DO”, I can just “BE”. I hereby add it to my list of coping strategies. The loft and I – we’re going to be great friends.
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