annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Back Writing on my phone, in bed. It’s been mega-crap-tastic since I last wrote though I will try and think of the upsides as I am sick of the sound of my complaints. I was well fucked off with politics - in fact there’s half a blog post about Brexit and the cuntishness of virtually everyone in public life, so there’s the first upside - I'm not posting that so none of us have to read it. I’ve been to a funeral - of a 92 year old woman who was my friend’s mother-in-law and who became my Facebook friend over the last few years. It’s weird shit, losing people you don’t know in real life, isn’t it? I did meet Sheila a few times, mostly back in 1979, but also a couple of times more recently, but before she took up Facebook and leaving loving, kind, supportive comments on my posts. She’d met my ED when she was tiny and was heart-broken for us all. It felt a bit weird to go to her funeral as I do know parts of her family but the ones I know best don’t Facebook. Still, my rule for funerals is go if you feel you want to, just go, and in fact it was good. I had long hugs with lots of older lesbians and realised that I'd copped off with one of them (yes, an attractive one, since you ask), a few years ago.. I have a strong image of her and me, pissed, snogging a bit, but I can’t quite place the venue or the year or the occasion. Yet. I will. I was glad to be part of a big turnout for a big woman who touched so many people and created a fucking fierce family which included my pal D right into its heart. So rest in peace Sheila or watch over us- you were a good woman and I miss you already. I want to try and do what she did - be endlessly fucking nice to people who struggle. I also felt I was at Sheila’s funeral in a way that kind of, but not exactly, served for other online friends whose passing touched me in ways I don’t know how to mark. Poolie and Mel most recently, but also Reenie and Em a while back - all people I came to love from afar. I wanted to mark their deaths, their friendship, to stand among others who loved them and tell stories. The next day, Saturday, I went to see daughter, just briefly as I had a date with my old school pal P. In the afternoon. ED was quite alert and I felt very snuggly with her and kept kissing her on the face and lips and snuggling with her because she’s my first daughter and I love her like I love my feet or my fingers - we are unthinkable apart. So I left intending to take her out Sunday to a cool place On my way from the care home to my Saturday date I got pulled over by the police, I thought they were kidding - I said, you’re kidding, right, but he wasn’t and had me drive round the corner to a quiet residential street where I had a minor meltdown about my stash of grass and my pipe, but no, it was lack of MOT - a certificate of roadworthiness that I had failed to get renewed on time. This turns out to be a criminal offence and she’s giving me all this “you don’t have to say anything but anything you do say blah blah blah and I feel like Arlo Guthrie getting busted for littering - my car is full to the point of bursting with beach litter on its way to somewhere else - not much room for people, just Shirley and me and the occasional son or daughter. I had to drive straight hone on pain of - well I didn’t listen to what, I just thought I'd drive home. I was well fucked off. Bloke lent me his car to meet P and we had a great walking talking afternoon, straight in at the psychological puzzles of our current lives - fucking awesome - we walked over four miles round the hills and paths - then I came home and started shitting and puking like a right bloody bastard and that’s what I've been doing ever since. A bit better now but Jesus. i haven’t seen my girl, i haven’t even dared phone in case I’m infected her with all tbat kissing. I haven’t done anything - yesterday I slept all day with bathroom interludes, today I read a bit and tried to watch Line of Duty - what the fuck is that about and does anybody care? And the last episode of the totally perfect Fleabag which I urge upon you one and all. Yesterdsy I ate nothing, drank water and puked and shat. Today I have had two slices of toast, no puking but some unpleasantness. But look - I’ve written a blog - I have an appetite - it may be early morning but I’m after more toast. 1:12 a.m. - 09.04.19 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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