Yesterday was a moonday for me. I know, unromantically we can blame it on PMS, but I like to think of days like yesterday as moondays. Lunatic, the state of being struck by the moon. And I don’t mean being a buff first nation’s teen defending the chastity of some dull girl that smells odd to shimmering yet just as dull vampires. I mean diving in to the waters deep and swimming out in to a night black sea. I mean setting sail in a silver ship, just you, an owl, a bottle of wine, your journal, a fountain pen and a photograph or two. I mean those days when you write poem after really bad poem, and you think them … brilliant. Earth shattering, in fact. In fact, you’d read them aloud if you had anyone to read them to. Because lets face it, people suck sometimes.

So yes, yesterday was a moonday. Welcome to my world.

In my blood many countries swarm much like parasites. I have a skill which I call ploughing, the ability to just sit in a chair and do the same thing over and over and over and over and over again. 98% of hand book binding is this, so much of pure craft is just tedium and repetition. The English in me gives me that stoicism, Stay Calm, Carry On. I admire the English and their carrying on, the stories of during the air raids of the second world war, “That was close. How about some fish and chips?” But on days like yesterday, when I am struck by the moon, my mellow turns dramatic and my quiet bubbles over in to a kind of rage and some other country in me takes hold.

In 1971 Leonard Cohen released the song Famous Blue Raincoat, he sings -

And what can I tell you my brother, my killer
What can I possibly say?
I guess that I miss you, I guess I forgive you
I’m glad that you stood in my way.

Mr. Cohen, you just know, was having a moonday, standing as he was in the cold New York rain, wearing what was left of his heart on his sleeve.

In 1971, the top 5 song was One Bad Apple recorded by the Osmonds, Donny Osmond sang -

One bad apple don’t spoil the whole bunch, girl.
Oh, give it one more try before you give up on love.
One bad apple don’t spoil the whole bunch girl.
Oh, I don’t care what they say, I don’t care what you heard.

On Sunday night singer Lhasa de Sela died of breast cancer, she was only 37. I never met her and missed seeing her when she played in Toronto, but her CDs always transported myself and my sisters to other worlds with silver seas. Her voice spoke of moondays. Of swimming in the dangerous waters out to sea to be free. Wherever she is right now, floating high above us, shower down your stars, we will catch the fire in our skirts to light our way.

Sorry, this posting doesn’t make much sense. I’m sitting here in Paris, alone in this cold now empty apartment waiting for Elizabeth to come home. All of Aunt Charlotte’s things have gone, there’s nothing left but my two bags, my laptop and Mr. Murakami’s daughter’s piano. Even Albert the cat has a new home. Today is my last day in this haunted apartment. Elizabeth is moving to her own flat and I’ve decided to travel a while and then return to Canada.

So for a month I will be away. I will try to post when I find an internet café and I know Alice will be posting. In February we’ve decided to redesign the blog. Alice will have her own and I will focus this on my art, it will be more like a gallery um, blog. Elizabeth isn’t sure what she wants to do, she is so busy being an apprentice bee.

Thank you for being so magical and travelling this distance with us. Thank you for your kind letters and emails and photos. Thank you for coming to Paris with me and making me feel safe. I promise to not disappear like everyone else seems to. Let’s all set sail now, you and I, and see what we can see. Thank you for everything. Thank you to Deane Hughes and Gillian Holmes who helped so much with designing this site originally, thank you to all the amazing, wonderful and fascinating people who answered our questionnaire, thank you to our parents, Mr. Flowers and all the fashion designers, artists, bands, rogues, vegans and vagabonds who inspired so much of this world of wonders and thank you so much to you. I promise to be back soon.

Love,
Sarah

Drawing for Clockwork © Sarah Pomegranate