annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary



After the awful dentist hooha I realised I had to practise self care properly, so yesterday morning I made a big effort to cut out everything that didn't matter and only do things that were healing and enriching.

I did have to go to the care home in the morning to pay some cash - while in Glastonbury I'd had an email from a local theatre about 'relaxed' performances where it's acceptable for people to make a noise - it's for those with Tourette's among others. They're showing Oklahoma! - a stage version not the film, so I'd got them to get tickets for ED and A (who likes music but is noisy), plus me and another carer (I like to be in a group, not just me and ED for these things - I panic) and now I had to hand over the cash to A's account and see my girl while I was there.

In the afternoon YD and I had tickets to see a Shakespeare play about voyages and identity - could be Pericles or Comedy of Errors or Twelfth Night.

This all seemed very do-able until I got into a mad text to and fro with my pal J over which account to use to pay her back for some other tickets (can you see why I'm skint? More importantly, can I see?) and when we're going to meet up. My phone doesn't get enough signal here for a call and we got totally fucked up over this Friday/next Friday and both texting at the same time. All sorted in the end, but I was on the road to agitation.

Then the house phone rang (see - brain doesn't work - J and I could have used that) and it was the head finance office of the company that bought the care home when the original owner retired, wanting to know what's happening with the funding and pointing out that I/ED owe than £85 a week since last October - in the region of £8,500. I'm not paying it - it will leave her with no money for physio, massage, trips out, even the music sessions in the lounge which residents have to pay a fiver for, to pay the musicians, and I'm not having it. They are not allowed to withdraw funding once allocated unless the person is cured - not just because a temporary problem is cured - and I am not taking away the few pleasures she has unless they take me to court, and even then I won't pay it because we don't have it - we spend it all on massages and physio and trips out.

The woman was very pleasant - she's not to blame for the decision but she's the one who needs paying. I got very upset as yet again I have to explain to someone that my daughter is dying so by the time that was done I was fucking useless and couldn't make my lunch or work out where to park or anything.

I still went to the care home where I cried again, all over some of the staff, then wiped my eyes and set off to meet YD and the whole day turned round.

The company was Shakespeare's Globe on Tour and they were truly awesome - they all spoke the lines as if they were thoughts that had popped into their heads and out of their mouths. The audience choice - determined by shouting out - was Twelfth Night, which was the one I wanted, it was at the Open Air Theatre and was blissful - so funny and moving and mad - fantastic to be in an audience that included loads of kids, all laughing out loud at words written 400 years ago. That's Malvolio on the left, in yellow stockings, cross-gartered... Such a talented cast



It was boiling hot of course, but we sat under the umbrella and melted but didn't care:


In fact I rushed off at half time and put my head under the cold tap - a wet plait down your back is a good coolant.

Then we went to the beach and threw ourselves in the water, me and my daughter2CD72362-8D45-4255-8A3D-E01E02E04536

who has just completed her first six months clean and dry and is fucking awesome.

So all was well that ended well - the first time I've simply enjoyed myself and lost sight of all the shit for bloody ages. So yay, go me, go YD and go Shakespeare - he is The Man, you know, he is.

Grateful for: a good time; daughters; the sea; Shakespeare, friends

Have a good day, y'all

10:02 a.m. - 12.07.19


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