annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary


Long blethering on, about trainers and stuff

It's been really hard, I'm not going to deny it. I've been forgetting to do the headspace meditation, though I'm sure that alone isn't enough to send me off the deep end, but my brain has become quite dysfunctional (and without much fun). I can't even remember now what was the last thing that had me undone [losing my hat, already wrote about it], but today it was about trying to buy a pair of shoes to walk and maybe run in.

I may have mentioned that I haven't worn proper shoes since my last teaching job in about 2007. It's all Uggs, wellies, crocs and flip-flops, depending on the season, and to be honest I'm not quite sure what made me think this wasn't enough. Oh yes - I'm kind of tempted by the idea of Couch to 5k  which is as its name suggests, running for lazy fucks who've sat on their arses long enough, but which definitely needs fitted shoes for rather than loose comfy footwear which slops about. I haven't got any bloody money, but Bloke will buy me a pair. But... I have a lot of these kind of plans - when I read through old blog entries I'm always amazed at how many things I'm definitely going to start doing but very often I buy some kit, usually a book or two (got to have a book) and them my attention wanders away. Which was fine when I had cash but not good now. Not at all good. So I thought I'd start with a proper commitment to the walking and if I keep going on that maybe I'll be up for some running. Well, that was mid-September and for the rest of 2016 I walked at least 6000 steps every day, every single day, and since Jan 1st I've been doing the #walk1000miles2017 challenge and have done 3 miles every single day. So that's five months, rain or shine, wind or calm, out I've gone, loving it. But that wasn't why I wanted trainers - that was because when it rains my Uggs get wet and stay wet for a couple of days, so it's wellies and they're hard on pavements. Fine for beaches and grass, but not good in the town. Bloke has some trainers that he swears by, waterproof, he said he'd pay for some of those, so I toddled into town today, full of optimism, if not a clear position on what I wanted and why. Turns out you can either have waterproofs or runners and off they go, these shop assistants about gortex and and well, I don't know what else because my brain kept melting. Do I want some waterproof shoes to walk in or do I want to start running or do I want them all to shut up and fuck off? Exactly. Though it took me three shops, two of them twice, and several heartfelt sobbing interludes down alleyways before I remembered that I didn't have to choose, I didn't have to do anything. Alleyways like this, though not this one


So I bought some fleecy insoles for my wellies in the sale, three quid and bloody lovely and went to the beach



and stomped up and down in an icy wind - replacement hat is bloody crap, got terrible ear ache - and became absorbed in watching an old feller feeding seagulls:


I mean, look at them waiting so nicely, almost in rows.


I'm blethering on about all this because I'm skirting around what I do want to admit to which is that I don't want to visit ED every day any more. Although just writing that down makes me cry, my silent daughter, lying in her bed, smiling vacantly, as if her life isn't bad enough without her mother abandoning her. I bought a copy of Pride and Prejudice in the Oxfam shop today, to read to her, thinking that it used to be one of her favourites - she read it more than once and her sister became obsessed with the BBC serialisation which was permanently on the telly for what seemed like most of the 1990s, so if she drifts off while I'm reading she'll know what's going on when she comes back because she knows it so well. I asked her if she'd like me to read it and she blinked hard which means yes and then W turned up in the doorway. He's another resident, just had his 40th birthday, wheelchair user, but can get himself around indoors, answers simple questions with yes/no answers and is one of the most competent in this care home for adults with severe learning difficulties, but would he like P&P? My girl is the only resident to have lost mental capacity, W and the rest never gained any. He likes to come and sit in her room and appears to enjoy me reading poetry, especially ones with a good rhythm. His presence unnerved me a bit but I cracked on anyway. But who was I kidding? The sentences are long, the language is just a little bit out of our time, too much is implied... I did a good screechy Mrs Bennet which made W laugh but ED had the look of a girl (she's not a girl, she's 38 years old but with the face and expression of a newborn) who doesn't know what the fuck is going on but knows it's meant kindly so will tolerate it for now. I can't bear it any more.

Though of course I can say that all I like but that is what I've got, so bear it I will as there's no alternative. But sometimes I feel murderous rage and resentment towards friends who have families where everyone is healthy and they come round and do things together and take it all for granted and I want to - I don't even know what I want to do but I feel I will explode with it all if something doesn't happen soon.


My sister posted this picture today of the day YD was born in my bed at home. Here we are just after the first guilt-free smoke and the clean nightie - there's ED aged 4 snuggled in next to me, and her best friend, wanting to share this new sister.



I am grateful for: remembering the better times; silent cat; log fire; fleecy welly liners; blog to rant in


Night night dear friends, sleep tight

12:52 a.m. - 27.02.17


previous - next

latest entry

about me





random entry

Jan 21st - 22.01.20
Jan 20th - 20.01.20
Jan19th - 20.01.20
Jan 18th - 19.01.20
Jan 16th - 17.01.20

other diaries:


Site Meter