Book and broad beans

A feeling I haven’t had for a while… on the tram yesterday I knew there was a book brewing. Luckily, I had pen and paper with me and I managed to jot a few things down. Without warning, I know the shape of this book and a little bit about what it will feel like to write it. I know where it starts but I don’t know where it ends. It’s real. It already exists and now I have a job to do, to bring it into the world.

That feeling, when it happens  (and I guess I can remember about five times and only three of them turned into books and only one of them has been published) imbues all of life with a new energy.  I become more sensitised, at every level. Today, I’ve been walking lighter, smiling more, thinking, planning, shaping. Wondering where I’ll find the time to make this happen!

Tonight, as I made one of my favourite dishes–broad beans–I found myself enjoying the process more than usual. The act of preparing and cooking the beans made them more than just beans. They became links to the imagination and to childhood. Memories of my Nonna who taught me how to cook them and peel them.  And the tactile memory of the furry insides of broad bean pods. Remembering a younger me who imagined what it might be like to sleep in a broad bean pod. Well, imagine it…

So there’s a book brewing. And the beans became infected somehow. BTW, they were delicious, with olive oil, chives, black pepper and salt. Normally I add lemon juice, but the lemons are all gone…