annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- With senses Got up early, did bicep curls, ffs, and reverse lunges and some kind of killer squats whose name escapes me. Tablet propped up on desk in art room, weights in amongst all the paper on the sofa, boxes of paper, crayons, things, all over floor, but a stretch cleared. Yoga chair at the ready if required. Window open, cool breeze. Coach's voice coming from the tablet, well done Anna, good work. Lingering scent of joss sticks burned during yoga sessions. Sweating, heart pounding, strength building. Started up a sourdough loaf, clearing a space on the kitchen counter, pushing dirty pans to the back, wiping thoroughly to make surface properly clean where I need it. Bright yellow walls, wooden shelf unit facing me, made of stolen scaffold planks many years ago, holding bowls of fruit and veg - a glass bowl of tomatoes, a painted Spanish ceramic bowl full of onions. Scissors, toothpicks, tiny jam jars in the spaces. Frank Skinner's podcast on, chatting shit about Keats's Ode on a Grecian Urn. Flour everywhere. Slap of the dough on the counter as I turn it and knead it. Leave it covered with a cloth for first proving. Planted loads of potatoes, still wearing my exercise shorts and vest, green canvas potato bags, new, out of the wrapping, stood on the broken paving, in between strands of the wild honeysuckle, not stopping to pull out the weeds in the cracks, the self seeded geraniums, verbena bonariensis. Big heavy bale of compost, I tip it 3" deep in each bag. Next door's pigeons chattering in their shed, also another bird he has in a cage that sounds just like Sweep, of Sooty fame - the same buzz, the same questioning tone. Blue sky. Dog sat on the path, ears twitching, nose on high alert, sniffing all the sniffs. To the beach to meet H, sat in the sunshine for ages, talking and talking, so much to say, told her the potted history of me and Bloke among other things. It's good making new friends late in life, but so much to fill in. Tiny shingle beach between the road and the water of the harbour, lighthouse behind us, traffic, cars, buses, trains on the line behind the row of terraced houses. Warm sun, warm stones. Lying on our dry robes, on the fleecy side, shingle lumpy beneath us. Little dog barking as its owner plays on a paddle board. Sauna over the groyne, people running down to the water, shrieking, then back into the sauna. Smells of the beach, seaweed, a bit fishy. Skin warm in the sun, then fucking freezing, red and glowing with the cold after our swim. Came home, meditated. In my bedroom, window open, traffic sounds, cars on the bypass humming in the background, birdsong, lots of different ones, not just the pigeons and seagulls. Andy P's voice on Headspace, calm, ordinary, comforting, soothing. Feel of the cushion under my legs, warm in my post-swim fleecy clothes. Sounds of Shirley snuffling, walking in circles on her blanket on the bed Finished loaf, later, sun moved round, no longer shining through the window. Kitchen still messy. Clean the same stretch of the worktop again. Slap the dough down, into the flour, just a bit, then shape and press it into the basket for final proving. Listen to Frank Skinner again as I do the washing up as I didn't catch it all in the morning. Standing at the sink, looking out at the garden, watching sparrows fluttering about in the bushes, drinking out of the dishes put out for them. Hands deep in the soapy water, carefully washing the lovely mugs J made for me, piling stuff up on the draining board, too much, too high. Smell of the eco washing up liquid. Loads of pans. Wipe down some more counter to lay down a tea towel and pile pans up, cheese grater, lemon squeezer (I forgot, I made hummus this morning, hence the lemon squeezer) finished dinner Bloke had started, smells of spicy veg fritters, bread baking at last, sound of the frying, spattering, bubbling of the water boiling the shit out of the runner beans. Watched Gogglebox Sent bits of Bella writing to H Blogged, adding in the senses, till I felt enough was enough. 12:13 a.m. - 08.04.23 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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