At one with the world. No before or after. Only now. No, not a mystic far advanced in contemplation but a ginger cat. It lay on its side, motionless in the afternoon sun. As I passed it turned its head. Its eyes blinked closed, as if enjoying the moment. It lazily registered my presence. Then it resumed its rest.
I don’t know whether cats have consciousness as we do. Surely there was no thought of the local vet in his mind: past visits or future, or offspring far and wide – or maybe none at all.
From my mind, however, thoughts of human ills are never distant. Nor are all the concerns of anyone who has a family. It’s the curse and the privilege of awareness.
Mrs Llew and I walked today where modern buildings have begun to blend in with the thatched and half timbered homes which preceded them – by about 500 years. Intimate, human scale still. Below an old grey stone wall some small flowers blossomed. ‘What are they?’ Mrs. L asked. Perhaps she was testing me. ‘Lungwort’, I said. ‘ The leaves look a bit like lungs’, she said..
But the tracery of tiny blue flowers which grew on the wall by the cattle market defeated me. I couldn’t name them.
There was blossom everywhere.
Then we went to Waitrose.