annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary
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Up the downs
This morning there was a nasty accident along the top road and another, lesser in terms of injury but greater in terms of complex vehicular carnage, on the coast road, resulting in absolute gridlock for several hours. There are only the two roads, going east/west, and all the little roads linking them filled up and I could only be glad I was told about it before I set off to yoga because I too could have been sat in my car on the dual carriageway, unable to move and getting crosser and crosser, I expect.
Instead of which I had a total meltdown.
I do yoga on Mondays and Thursdays, that's the rule, fuckers. This is how I know how fragile my equilibrium has become. I mean, shit happens, plans change, c'est la bleeding vie, innit? Bloke had gone (luckily for him in a westerly direction as he just had to crawl along for 45 minutes then all was well), and, left to my own devices I just paced and sobbed and made plans and changed them every few minutes - I could go on the train, just a couple of miles walk to the station, but then walking to the class and back, and the cost of the train and what time would it be, no, better to just walk to the care home, but too agitated for ED so perhaps go to YD's, no, she was busy doing art, maybe it would be OK on the train.
I don't know why I didn't go on the train, but I couldn't manage to get myself out of the door in a trainwardly direction and then finally it was too late, I wouldn't make the class - I've just remembered I didn't do my meditation either - and I calmed down a bit, put on lots of layers of clothes as it was perishing and walked off, across the dual carriageway and up into the hills. I'm writing it in this detail for my future self to remember, how quickly I can unravel, but then how it can suddenly come round again.
These aren't the most interesting photos, but I'm posting them anyway. Pylons, across the first field, which is littered with bags of dog shit. What is the matter with people that they can't either leave the shit in the field or take the bag away? Makes me livid, but I'm not picking up bags of dog shit. I forgot to take my litter picker, but I didn't remember until I'd already gone back twice, once for my purse and once for my headphones, so enough already.
I listened to this, a bunch of women chatting, so funny, literal laughing out loud, hope it works, Standard Issue podcast episode 8, recommended. Winkelman, Toksvig, Millican, Horgan. Top stuff.
https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/standardissuemagazine/episodes/2017-01-27T04_16_23-08_00
On a clear day you would see the sea beyond the land here, but there was no sign of it today. I thought I'd taken a panoramic shot, but apparently not. I am right up on the downs - go me!
This is to do with the offshore windfarm being built, looks like a road to me, getting cut into the chalk, though I have no idea how electricity is transferred from wind turbines to anywhere else, but it's the same notices so definitely connected ... weird, but I like the look of the white strip unfolding across the hills - reminds me of The Highwayman - "...the road was a ribbon of moonlight..."
and look at this lovely pile of golden horse manure, gently rotting into perfection
and these silly sheep:
I walked five miles altogether, coming down off the hills behind the shite carvery, where I treated myself to a crap roast dinner before walking home.
So it was OK in the end, if only after all that drama first, but tomorrow is another day and I did make it through this one. Yay.
I am grateful for: not needing a stick - NOT NEEDING A STICK!! up all those hills, walking for all that time! My legs are really getting better! Grateful for my warm bed, my laptop to blog on, the care home for caring, yoga for still being there on Monday.
xxxx
12:58 a.m. - 10.02.17
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