annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary

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Mothering Sunday

11/3/24
Sunday was Mother’s day here and Son invited both me and Daughter to spend the day and have lunch with him in London where he lives. She couldn’t go so I went on the train. It pissed down with rain, relentlessly, copiously, all fucking day. I have a perfectly good waterproof coat, a dryrobe, but for reasons I can’t even imagine, I chose to wear a showerproof mac instead. To stop rain on my glasses I grabbed my hat, I believe it’s a fedora, a black fedora, unworn for ages as it blows away in the wind, the endless fucking wind, but I shoved it on my head and away I went to catch the train. So it was only when I laid this hat on the table in front of me that I noticed it’s entirely misshapen these days and covered in cats’ hairs. I thought of leaving it on the train but then the rain, still lashing against the windows, would blind me by covering my glasses, so I picked at it, hoping to remove some of the hair, and bashed it around a bit to try and regain some shape, but no luck with either really.
Then I forgot about it so when the train pulled into Victoria Station I shoved it on my head and pushed my way through the crowds to Son whose face broke into a fond smile at the sight of me. ‘That hat,’ he said, and shook his head. We agreed that you can wear what you like in London, also that I wear whatever I like anywhere. Which I do. You should see what I wore today. We went to Holland Park, which was lush in the rain, a beautiful, Japanese garden, weird sculptures of tortoises, puddles you could sail away in, then walked down Portobello Road for miles, which reminded me of being there with my beloved, our beloved Stepfordtart, pissed together in the afternoon, also that song by Cat Stevens on the first album I ever bought in 1967 at the age of 13. We did get soaking wet, even though I bought yet another umbrella, but we didn’t really care, we just walked and talked and laughed then stopped and had lunch in Honest Burger where there were groups of people speaking what sounded like South American Spanish – Castellano – on either side of us, which was cool. Turns out the father, the deadbeat dad, number two, has become an English citizen, to which news I am utterly indifferent.

1:00 a.m. - 12.03.24

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