annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary
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Staying Alive
I don't know what to say, I don't know what to write. I should go to bed as it's late but if I do I'll be waking up and going to Stepfie's funeral, which, as I'm sure you'll understand, I don't want to go to at all, but I want to not go even less. With the meditating and all that, I've got pretty good at staying in the now, but tomorrow's now will be real, in a way I've managed to avoid. This may not make much sense but it's the best I can do.
I walked on the beach today with someone I love very much, one of the rocks in my life for over twenty years. She has a lump on her neck, an itchy body, total exhaustion and has lost a stone in weight without changing her diet. The NHS, which would once have had her up at the hospital being tested the same day, now commits to seeing her within a fortnight. The GP gently warned her that this combination of symptoms may signify something nasty. We'd guessed that. It may not - there may be a simple or a treatable cause. So today we walked on the beach, me and my friend, and if it is nasty we'll get to that when it comes.
Before that I went to the allotment with YD. She dug out the compost heaps and cut back the thornless blackberry that's growing all over everything in one corner. I planted six rows of garlic and two rows of broad beans, going all Monty Don* with my string and trench and a board to stand on. Here are my beans - fava beans in American, I believe
and here is the whole bed:
Bloody lovely it is, as you can see. There are about eight of these beds on our plot. If I can get some onion sets we'll plant them and that's all till the spring, apart from some blackcurrant bushes if I can raise the cash. But we can be weeding and tidying and making it all lovely when we have dry days, as being outside, working the land, growing food, is good for the soul, and our souls need feeding in these hard times.
*Monty Don is the current presenter of Gardeners' World, the BBC's flagship gardening programme for many years.
I met my friend today by the Canadian war memorial on the beach:
I thought of you, Bert, and hoped you were well. I struggle with all this remembrance stuff. Not the remembering and honouring, but the big fuss made over the dead by the powers that be, who are meanwhile allowing those who return from war disabled to eke out an existence on next to nothing. Many become homeless and die in poverty - who's remembering them, motherfuckers? Also, what are these wars we keep sending our youths to kill and die in? They aren't defending our freedom, that's for sure. They're attacks on other countries, other people, mostly brown.
And while I'm ranting, there's a lot of sentimentality about Obama going around, to which I am quite susceptible as well, as he is the most charming, gorgeous even, politician ever. But drones. Killing children. A man 'may smile and smile and be a villain.' We have to remember this.
I am grateful for: friends; life; sunshine; walking; daughters (and son, obvs)
Sleep well, dear friends. Thanks for reading.
1:01 a.m. - 14.11.16
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