annanotbob2's Diaryland
Diary
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Friends
17/4/24
Just watched Danny Dyer’s documentary ‘How to Be a Man’ – an exploration of where we’re at. One of his conclusions – be more Brighton. Yeah. I don’t think it’s paradise but it’s a lot easier to be whoever you are there than in many places. Worthing, I’m talking to you.
These days of enforced immobility have been blessed with visits from old friends, Most recently S, who used to blog on diaryland as teachingusa, and M, who used to be a care worker in the place Sammie lived.
S and I started reading each other’s blogs in 2005, almost 20 years ago. She’s American but has lived just over the border on the western edge of Canada for all this time, teaching in various settings and making comics. She’s been to Brighton once before, both times to speak at international conferences about teaching English as a foreign language. It’s so brilliant that most of us who write these journal/blogs – the ones I read at least, don’t try and create a persona but just blurt out whatever it is we’re driven to share. When we meet we do know each other. There’s a bit of tentativeness for the first few minutes but fuck all really. I met S outside the Grand and we’d not walked the 50 yards to the subway before we were comfortable, asking a million questions, laughing, having quick hugs, sharing the awful events that have dominated both our lives since our previous meeting. For me it’s Sammie, clearly, but S hasn’t come through unscathed. Her son fell off a bridge and landed on his head, was in intensive care for ages, hovering on the brink, then made it through but with a certain amount of permanent brain damage. We were on the beach by now, walking towards the pier, listening intently to each other, feeling all the feels. Plus both limping a bit, both having dodgy bloody legs, which was kind of good, no pressure, we’ll get there in the end.
Onto the pier for a sit down, then dinner, just fab, made me feel so blessed to have made connections with so many good people.
Today along came M, a wild woman who worked in the care home briefly. She once drove us to the open air theatre in the big bus with Sammie and another resident to see a performance of Romeo and Juliet that was stripped down to the bones, all original text but not too much of it, with lots of songs performed by the cast – I can’t remember exactly but it was something like Britpop songs for one family and RnB for the other. Anyway, it pissed down with rain but we had camping chairs and big umbrellas – the theatre is set up for rain, this being England – and all got drawn into the plot – how can I always hope it will end well? – it was such a great show no one left, after the interval it was still a full house, and M was so thrilled and grateful for having been introduced to such an unexpected glorious experience, life-changing she says. After that she chose to come to as many of our family things as possible, including bringing Sam to my brother’s funeral. Her own family complications led to her leaving and moving away but on the day Sam died, someone phoned her to tell her and she took the day off work, jumped in her car and headed south, only to be trapped on the fucking M25 for hours and not arriving until well into the evening, after we’d all, including Sam, left the building. So it was good to see her today, recently returned to live on the coast, to hear her booming chuckle and her latest wild stories. She took in a rescue puppy a while ago and has recently discovered it’s one of those XL Bullies that are banned. This did not surprise me. The dog was in the car – didn’t come in because of Shirley - and I went out to meet it – fucking hell, they’re strong dogs. She’s a puppy so all waggy tail and wanting to lick me, but scary to think of one turning on you.
My car had its MOT and failed on loads of things – tyres, lights, suspension. I’m getting a full quote tomorrow but I’m not optimistic. Sigh.
12:31 a.m. - 18.04.24
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