To be a writer

Monday was day two of knitting widowity, and, in a continuation of my plan to see lots of people whilst Nathan achieves world domination, one stitch at a time, I met up with young Josh for a walk, a swim and a picnic on the Heath.

It has become my ambition to visit the men’s pond as often as I can whilst summer is still with us, and I found a pair of Nathan’s trunks which I lent to Josh, so that I could introduce him to the joys of that particular spot. For a Northerner, he didn’t half make a fuss about getting into the cold water, which was actually relatively warm.

He calmed down once he was actually in, and was soon saying how pleased he was to be there. That’s the spirit. I’m not sure he quite knew what to make of the naked sunbathing area, but part of the joy of Hampstead Heath is its anything-goes, somewhat-subversive vibe. Obviously its nocturnal gaybo activities are well-documented, but it also attracts fairly large number of pagans, naked dog walkers and people taking magic mushrooms! People swim in the ponds every day. In the winter, they break the ice and dive in. Soft Southerners? My foot!

After swimming, Josh and I walked across the Heath and had a mini-picnic sitting by the Victorian viaduct near the tree with the hole in it. Herons nest on strange orange floats in the little pond there. A pair of them flew right over our heads, no more than five meters above us. It was a glorious sight. Heaven knows what keeps those giant, gawky creatures in the air. Flying looks like a great deal of effort!

We walked back to the car, talking about everything and anything, but a great deal of the chatter was dedicated to attempting to work out why it is that writers these days are so often expected to work merely for the privilege of having our productions staged. Almost as if the gratitude we inevitably feel is payment enough. One of the reasons I’ve chosen to start directing theatre again is that a director is far far more likely to be paid in this industry than a writer. It seems bizarre, but them’s the facts.