annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary

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Back for Good

1. I made it to art this morning, with no inspiration - in fact I lost the plot in the car as the pay-by-phone parking suddenly forgot who I was and made me log in again from the beginning, asking me all these stupid questions again and again as I kept pressing the wrong bits as I can never remember what the symbols mean. And now it's lost all the codes for the places I often go to, which is fucking annoying. Anyway, I made it into the art room at the recovery centre and grabbed a board and drew a picture from the cover of the first book I saw on the table as I had nothing at all to make a decision with. I did calm down eventually though, soothed by the concentration, by the inner voice telling me repeatedly that we weren't after an exact replica, it's the process that counts. Klee. I like a bit of Klee.


2. Then it all got complicated as I tried to work out how to walk the dog, get the flat mounts I need to attach my collage to the cafe wall, pick up Grandson over there and his girlfriend somewhere else, take them for lunch and visit ED. My mind is blown these days. Simple things are too much. It all came out well in the end, which I knew it would, but I couldn't see how at the beginning, so I just started. I put the dog in the back of the car and drove to the hardware shop. One step at a time.


3. I took them to lunch at a carvery - I'd wanted it just to be GS as I didn't know GF was here, but I do like her, so it was OK. I banned the phones for the duration and we managed to chat along. The food was fucking disgusting. The worst carvery meal I've ever eaten. The meat was OK, but the veg - man. And it's no good complaining when we could see before we loaded our plates that the roast potatoes were overdone to the point of being rock hard, the carrots were dry, the cauliflower was mush. We should have turned away but there's nowhere else to go, and, fuck it,  we did enjoy each other's company.


4. Then we walked the dog on the beach as the sun went down, waiting for ED (GS's mother) to have her reflexology session so that we could visit her. She doesn't recognise him. When she last had her full wits about her he was tiny, under five foot, and had a little squeaky voice. Now he's 18, about five eight and speaks like the young man that he is. I tell her, "This is GS, your son," and her eyes widen as she squints at him, before looking frankly sceptical. I ask him questions about what he's up to as he finds it impossible to just chat to her, and I can see her listening, thinking. Does she recognise his way of talking, his phrasing? Impossible to say, but she looks half interested.  After I'd taken them home, the radio played Take That "Back for Good" and I had to pull over as I was unsafe to drive for a bit. We do, we want her back, want her back for good.  Unlucky.


5. I parked my car on the drive and walked a long walk in the dark, round the nasty housing estate, with little Shirley in tow, talking on the phone to my pal M, then came home and watched telly and ate a big Nicoise salad that Bloke made for me. Courtney Act kept her place in the Big Brother house while the three laddish lads were all evicted, so that was good. Tomorrow I will hang my collage and have lunch with Son. I am a lady who lunches. Well, not a lady, obvs, I spit on the term. But lunch out two days in a row...

Bye xx

12:47 a.m. - 27.01.18

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