annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Back Then I'm too tired to write, mostly because I just read this, from my time as a hospital teacher - who the fuck was that woman, who could do all this? This is the day I first read Stepfordtart's diary. She's been on my mind a lot recently. Grief is like that, isn't it? It ebbs and flows. When she died I was right in the middle of terrible stuff with ED and I think I put her 'over there' in the 'too hard; can't do' place. I miss her though. We didn't meet often, but I knew she was there and she was fucking fantastic, one of the most awesome women I have ever known. Anyway, this was from then. All names have been changed: "Busy oh yeah This will be quick, as ER's on in a minute and I just love all that drama and shit. Well, OK. Luca. (Pause for thought.) And that Parminder Nagra. She was such a little poppet in Bend It Like Beckham that I can't help feeling proud of her, being a doctor and all. A delightfully grumpy doctor. Although she said wanker just now. (I'm adding this during an ad break, having spotted Luka and remembered why I watch it.) Waving to stepfordtart - great name, great diary. I've had ONE FUCK OF A DAY. Lots of good stuff, lots of hassle, too much stuff. I'm an old lady, for Christ's sake. Fantastic writing from the three mad 11 year olds. We did the dream journey thing ('You're walking down a path.... describe what you see and feel... etc) and they were so descriptive and so varied. H was away in fairy land with the elves, J was in the moonlit woods and P was in edgy urban. Then an hour with Liam who has arrived at the pissed off stage of the game. Six weeks in hospital with a heavy weight hanging off your broken leg is a long game with a variety of ups and downs, and here we are in a big slump. But, he's a six year old who lives in the moment, so he starts off the session in a mood of bolshiness one way or the other, but it is my task to be a big interlude in a very long day and he soon forgets to be awkward. We did 'news' "I have played lots of Top Trumps. I have been very bored." (Poor little soul) Then a few sums, then I showed him the Australian alphabet of animals, some of which I'd never heard of before (quoll?), which cheered him up and we traced an animal each to paint. I love the way he won't do one on his own but wants me to do one as well. He did a dingo and chatted about how he knew about dingoes because there'd been one on Scooby Doo, while I did a turtle and got totally carried away in it and forgot I was meant to be a teacher. But we both said what we were going to do next on our picture and why before we did anything and made helpful comments and had a lovely time so fuck the national curriculum, that's what I say. So that bit was great, but all quite intense. Then the girls came back and I tried to teach them to knit, stupid optimist that I am, and least said about that the better, so then we went on to this painting project with the photos and all that and it all went a bit lairy. When I'd arrived in the morning, I immediately spotted that someone had made about twenty small holes in the ceiling, with a pool cue presumably, and one much larger hole. There were crayons and felt pens all over the place (from the playroom, not mine which are all locked up tight). When I asked a nurse what had happened she said I didn't want to know, so I forgot about it. Then, as we were getting into the painting an older girl came in, 14, who I recognised, but couldn't place. I went to chat and she reminded me that she'd been in for an overdose a while back and had taken another one and she was still here. I invited her to join in the painting if she liked and she did. Then in comes a 14 year old boy and I can't get into it all, although I want to get it down cos I know it'll dissolve in the fog of my memory if I don't, so the upshot was that he'd OD'd as well, they'd met on the ward, got together and now he was her protector,which she liked but she showed that liking by gentle mocking. He wasn't sure how to take that, so there was this circular conversation that got quite tense at one point before we all settled back down for the smooth bit. It was such an unexpected mixture of kids. Three little princesses, all absolutely pre-puberty, still in teddy bear land, with Mummy and Daddy all clean and nice and well off and loving, and these two, one in yet another foster placement and one desperate, really desperate to get taken into care. Scruffy cheap clothes, and language, fuck me, we had language those little girls thought was So Rude. They were too innocent to be scared, but I could see that the boy, I'll call him Dan, could go right off, really right off in an instant and I was OK when he was painting - they all did self-portraits - but fairly anxious when he was pacing up and down with a pool cue gripped rather too tightly. BUT, miraculously, this motley bunch did all sit round a table sharing paints and all taking care to produce the best picture they could manage. Dan and, OK, she can be Kelly, were equally unfamiliar with the kind of chit-chat that spews in an endless stream from the mouths of the girls and I could sometimes sense in Dan an urge to smash the shit out of all this fucking niceness. I've known that urge, though I've never (thinks - is this true? Dunno) responded to it, and I chipped in with a diversion when I sensed one of them becoming dangerously precious. Then people arrived to see Dan and Kelly and things kicked off out in the corridor, the girls were rapidly discharged (P's gran bought a set of knitting needles and wool off me for cost price, as P wanted to keep hers going) and I packed up my stuff and came home. To find that no fucker had cleared the table since we had dinner last night. Dinner which I cooked, dinner with two roast veg (potatoes and parsnips) and three, yes three more. Carrot and cauliflower and celeriac as well as a delicious roast chicken. There was a lot of peeling and chopping going on there and several saucepans and I was Not Happy to see it all still spead all over the kitchen twenty hours later. They are all bastards. And I'm ranting, so I'm off to bed. Night night and sweet dreams. That 'Millions' book I mentioned yesterday is a hoot, by the way. I have no idea where it's going, and that's really exciting." 12:52 a.m. - 29.07.18 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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