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Return To Eden

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Dear Juliet I hope you enjoyed rereading Roses . The rangers at Point Lobos had some sort of library called a docent where volunteers train and study , I think. I sent them a copy of Drusilla's Roses two years ago. It might still be there. John Steinbeck said he left a lot of tracks. I guess I did too. I remember going back, walking on down past the monastery and its beach There wouldn't have been anything without you. All those days and miles, you and Dru walked with me too. Out of sight, out of view. Ghosts of time past and ventures new. I had the old straw hat I got in L.A. I walked down to the Point, and I thought of you. Nodded to the rangers and went through. Winding path, pine and cypress, coming to quite a salty windy view. Down to the beach, same as it had been thirteen, fourteen years ago. Chapel's grace, surf 'neath heaven, this is true. Without you, what would I do? Sit and stare at sea and shore, ponder scripture as nuns do. Remember, though, Dru loves you...
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Peace At the Point...

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Dear Juliet I hope you're okay. Love, J.
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Gatsby's Idyll At the Point...

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Dear Juliet I see Nickel City's opening hours were extended, I think you're very tired, I won't talk much. Not that there's a lot going on here. The clock's ticking steadily down to the end of the chemo-pill course and I just had a glorious afternoon doing the home insurance. Joy. So I think I'll stick with the basics and make the point that I didn't much feel like writing anything this afternoon, but I nevertheless dragged myself manfully to the desk and tried to pulp together some fiction for you. Because you're worth it. All for the promise of a smile, as I once said. I hope you see the beaches at the Point one day, idyllic amidst sand and ocean spray. Perhaps Gatsby was wrong. Perhaps one fine morning we will no longer be borne so ceaselessly back into the past. Perhaps we will run faster, stretch out our arms further and find one far-off day that we are come down to the sea and it is done... Quite a few allusions there, but they come to naught again...
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The Iron Bridge

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Dear Juliet Two cancellations last night (no partridge up a pear tree) so I took myself to Ironbridge (a nearby World Heritage Site) to pass the time... It's the site of the world's first bridge entirely to be made of cast iron, and it was completed in 1779. At about the same time, Spain allied itself with the American revolutionaries and declared war on Britain; and General "Mad Anthony" Wayne captured the Stony Point outpost from us limeys. I don't think General Wayne was any relation to John Wayne (who was born Marion Morrison), but overall I guess it was a bad year for us. However, at least we built a bridge. And that's a nice bit of history, but that's not the thing. I walked down from the top of the town in ninety degree heat, couldn't find a coffee shop, walked up again and once I'd got back near to the top, belatedly realised I hadn't taken any photographs of it for you... I'd have to go back, and this was also after the last walk t...
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Last Walk, Still On the Line...

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Dear Juliet And that's about it! Last appointment at New Cross Hospital, a couple of trips to other hospitals for final check-ups (skin, ultrasound), and one final telephone assessment in late July at which time I should be finishing my last load of pills. I gave my clinical nurse practitioner Rajni a copy of Dear Miss Landau , she's OK'd me to add her picture to this post and I had a last check-in with the ducks on the canal, all of whom asked kindly after you. I'd better tell Sleepless in Seattle about this, too... However, it was good to know you were listening on the wire while I was doing the walk. That made it easier and all you ever had to do was be yourself. I probably won't make any foreign travel plans until I've taken my last pill, but - here's a thought - it's nice I can consider heading back up to that sunlit city on the hill. Not quite sure which hill, admittedly, but I'll think of something. Any ideas? Well, I'm at work tonight bu...
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Out Of the Wreckage...

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Dear Juliet Today was the 10th anniversary of my mother's death. I wanted to sit for a while in church and remember her, but there was a funeral so I had to move fast. Such is life. I got briefly into the Lady Chapel, paid my respects and got out quick. But if you're expecting some screed about family values, don't worry. I went no-contact with my own sister and I don't regret it one iota. She was plain horrible. People actually love being judgmental, but they almost invariably do it without full knowledge of the circumstances or feelings of others so I try not to fall into that trap. As Atticus Finch once said in To Kill a Mockingbird : "You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view ... until you climb into his skin and walk around in it." I might hear from my niece and nephew one day, but I suspect they're too involved with their smartphones (honestly, can you marry one of the things?) to bother. Okay, that's e...
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Worth Every Moment...

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Dear Juliet It's late on a Tuesday night, verging on Wednesday. I am indeed bleary and incoherent, as tired as I was on the original trek and looking for the words which said you were worth every moment of it and I'd do it again in a second, even if I had to walk. Actually, I think that was about it... Well, you were. You were the heart and soul of it all, and that's all there is to it. You still are, too. I think, for tonight, that'll have to do. Love, James
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