annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Day 29 I don't think I'll be able to stop writing every day at the end of December but I'm not going to commit to every day for a year, no matter how tempting. I'm already signed up to walk 1000 miles ( https://www.walk1000miles.co.uk/ ) and I think that's enough for now. I'm liking how I've started to drift again, to ease away from the literal account of my day into whatever takes my fancy. Ponderings. But, today. I just couldn't get out of bed. So I didn't. I lay there, trying to go back to sleep, failing. Trying to watch telly, failing - I don't know what to watch. I need something undemanding that doesn't insult my intelligence, is about women, preferably, and not violent or scary. There's not much meets that. In recent times I've liked Traces, Gentleman Jack, and probably other stuff that I can't remember. I don't like US programmes that are 20 minutes long and have the same structure, episode after episode. Today I tried The Marriage Story, but it didn't hold my attention much, though I liked Laura Dern. Big Little Lies, that was good. By mid afternoon, I'd had enough of trying to rest so got up and took the dog to the beach. The usual one, for when it gets dark, which it did. We walked further west than we have for ages, within range of the care home where Sam lived and Shirley started pulling me towards the turning. At first I tried to keep her away, but then I thought fuck it and went there, to see what happened. The door was opened by J, one of my favourites, who had been with us on the day Sam died. Her face lit up when she saw me and we spontaneously hugged and cried a bit and she welcomed me in, and there were the same old crew of residents, some of whom clearly recognised me, with kind of smiles (these are adults with profound learning difficulties, no speech), which was cool. I got a bit overwhelmed, especially as I'd been able to see from outside that Sam's room had been repainted for the new resident and had very different furniture, as if she'd been wiped away, though I don't think she had. I am going to fix up a regular slot for reading to the residents - I've read to Sammie in the lounge a few times and gathered a small crowd. Poems with rhyme and rhythm are good to listen to even if you don't fully understand them. When I was last there the regular reading was a Dutch staff member reading The Count of Monte Cristo and it was fucking painful. I can do better than that and I think I'd like to. Not quite yet, but soon. Today I am grateful for: having the option of staying in bed, even if I couldn't manage it; having a beach to hand; a warm welcome at the care home; finding a really good pallet and dragging it to the car; text chatting with my pal D in Glastonbury as I wandered round the sea front. Laters xx 12:00 a.m. - 29.12.19 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||