annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Not proof read, sorry I shall attempt to write with neither hope nor despair (which is a quote from someone that I read somewhere today and stuck with me) - well, it may have sounded like a good idea but actually, like it or not, despair is part of where I live right now and if I'm having despair I'm not turning my back on hope whenever she shows up. So, as you were. The trip to ED's was everything I'd hoped for - she was invigorated by the change of scene, we laughed, we missed the rain, we found her some great clothes, she was alert and present and I came away feeling better for knowing I'd helped her to feel better, but fuck. On Wednesdays she goes to a day centre, highlight of her week, the carers come at 7.30 to get her up and dressed then she's picked up and taken somewhere else for the whole day, hanging out with other people. But they didn't pick her up today and she's miserable and confused and all the good has dissipated already. So that's a bit of a bummer. As is the fact that I have ignored everything about this internet snooping business (beyond crossing Obama right off my friends list, fucker) and also Syria - I missed the beginning of both of those and I can't follow it from here and man, I don't really want to, but I feel I have to because the bastards rely on most us not really grasping what's going on. It's my birthday on Sunday and I can't think of anything to do that doesn't make me flinch away, as if from a nasty thing, but the one that feels worst is spending the day alone, so I'll have to take some action to avoid it, I suppose. I feel a bit strange about my age as it's fallen victim to my capacity for distorted thinking. It started in January when I realised that next year I'll be sixty. All my life sixty has been the retirement age for women - you could draw your state pension (whether you retired or not, you'd paid in till then), get your free bus pass, but have to face the fact that you were officially old. Till now - my pension age seems to recede every time I open the paper, from 2014, to 2015 and now to 2020 - we may be the first cohort to never reach it at all. But it's a shock to a person to discover their sixtieth birthday just over the horizon and quite surprising how many contradictory thoughts can be entertained on the subject of age and youth. I mean, I know I'm not as young as I was (and nor would I want to be), but I don't feel like I'm winding down, more like I'm cranking myself up, in training for whatever comes next. And now my birthday is here and it's not my sixtieth, not yet, that's next year. Which had somehow eluded me so now I feel as if I've been given a year, a whole extra year of being fifty nine - woo hoo, eh? Off to YD's tomorrow (after yoga) for the opening of her degree show. Exciting. And quite scary. It's a bit of a 'thing', the degree show at her college - gets coverage in the national press, somewhat sneery in recent years, its glory days are over (or are they?). How proud am I? She is talented and hard-working and brave and wonderful.
12:05 a.m. - 13.06.13 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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