annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary

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It's all right Ma, I'm only bleeding

I've had a bloody lovely two days at YD's, for Mothering Sunday weekend. Last night Son came over, YD cooked a beautiful three course meal for us, and they didn't wind each other up at all. Son had had his interview for the scholarship in the morning - he thought it had gone well but that there were lots of other applicants so he's not pinning all his hopes on it. Ten days wait to find out.

This morning, after breakfast in bed, YD and I went for a walk - she's got into the pedometer/steps thing as well - we went out yesterday when I arrived. Cool. Today we walked by a canal:

along quaintly named streets:

and all the way to Greenwich, which amazed me as I've been to Greenwich from theirs in a car and would have put it in a completely different direction. I need to look on a map, but on a bigger screen than this notebook. (Although at least 'Word with Friends' opens on here which it doesn't on the pc). I was going to write something acute based on my observations of this London, but I don't have anything smart or original to say so I won't. It was fucking cold (what's with all the north-easterly winds?) and you move from run-down to hip 'n' happening and back again with alarming speed. We saw the Cutty Sark, but I forgot to look up what is is. A boat - well a ship. Sails. 16 to get into the museum, so we didn't.

This afternoon YD was meeting a friend so Son invited me to go and see Karl Marx's grave in Highgate Cemetery. I made him work my route out - I can do it myself if it just involves the underground, but I'm not ready for factoring in overground and/or buses. Also, last time I used my Oyster card I bunked a train to Brighton with it (and where does that leave it - thinking I'm still inside the transport system or what?), so quite a lot of anxiety-provoking shit, but all was well and we arrived at Highgate within minutes of each other.

Sadly the Cemetery is nowhere near Highgate tube station. Fucking hell, Son has GPS on his phone, but didn't bring his glasses so couldn't see what he was doing and I don't know how to work it.

We finally found it, turned the wrong way and did almost a complete up and downhill circuit of the outside before reaching a gate, which was locked. Open till 5, fuckers. Son was pissed off to say the least, but as we were completing the circuit I suddenly spotted old Karl through the railings:


Crappy pics, I know, but it was just too far away, too late in the day.

We'll go back again in a few weeks, when the weather's warmer, and arrive earlier. Neither of us are Marxists, but he was one hell of a thinker. Freud's grave is in there too, and George Eliot's, so we might make a day of it.

This evening YD and I smoked weed, watched a film and laughed a lot.

So all in all, a lovely Mother's Day, having an interesting, comfortable time with my lovely kids. Son did post one of those 'card' things on my facebook page saying, "MOM, YOU MY NIGGA!" which made me laugh and feel uncomfortable in equal measures. Tomorrow it's back on the motorway and on to ED's. Bro is thinking about lending me some money. I'm optimistic enough to have not worried about any of that shit since I left his house, but time will tell.

xxx

14,544 steps. Fourteen fucking thousand - six point eight miles. Go me.

11:54 p.m. - 10.03.13

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