annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary

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Down

1. Art was hard today. The class was moved to a downstairs room, with only small, round tables, no painting allowed, all scrunched up together, not fun at all. Apparently they told us this last week, but if so, I missed it. It's only going to be every second Friday of the month, but it still threw me right off balance - I was expecting to fall into my peaceful, soothing place but instead it was new and disturbing. One of the other people had cut their face badly, in a self harm way rather than accidental, and that was distressing too. There seems to be a sudden surge in cutting - wherever I go I see evidence of it, written on bodies of people I care about but don't know well. I need to walk away in my feelings as well as in the room - there's nothing I can do and no good comes of me being in a state about it, so put it down, leave it. I tell myself. Sigh.


2. Anyway, I did drawings, that I didn't enjoy as much as splashing paint about, but here they are, all put on one pic, with the photo I copied:


3. Then, after a brief visit to my SIL up the road, I went to the beach on my own and paced up and down, like a demented fool, unable to relax into it, all stirred up. I hate not knowing where my brother is, or if he is and sometimes I think he can see me acting like a fool and I feel ashamed of myself. It's just hard.


4. I went to the care home after that and walked with my daughter round the town and into Boots to get the photo printed. I ended up ranting at the assistant, who'd been very helpful with the technology and didn't deserve it, but she made the mistake of asking if I wanted a Boots loyalty card. The conjunction of the words Boots and loyalty set me right off. (Boots is a big chain of chemist/pharmacist shops that have expanded to include photography and all kind of other leisure-related objects. Every British town has a branch - it was founded in Nottingham by Jesse Boot and bears his name though it is now US owned). I told her that in general I boycott Boots for their tax avoidance - fucking fuckers, paying no tax - and once started I couldn't stop. My poor daughter, stuck in her wheelchair next to an increasingly hysterical mother and embarrassed shop assistant who just wanted me to shut up and fuck off. Which I did in the end.


5. And took my girl onto the pier as the sun was going down. It was quite monochromatic and very still and peaceful, which didn't stop me feeling like a lunatic.

12:44 a.m. - 14.04.18

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