annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary


Jan 25th

Don't know what I'm going to write, but here I am, turning up at the page and hoping for the best. There's always something, I reckon.

I was messaging Floodtide this morning and he said he hoped my day would bring me some joy, which led to me keeping my eye out, but none was forthcoming today, to be frank. But it wasn't all bad, just a bit lonely, moving through the world alone, making contact with people here and there, but basically travelling solo.

Singing was OK, though the woman who runs it gets on my wick a bit - she carries on like she's doing us a favour, when in fact we're all doing a favour for each other. No group without her, but not without us either. She gets a bit pissy about choice of songs, but it seems to me you either tell us what we're going to sing or you accept our choices. It's your fucking book of songs that you've assembled - take them out if you don't want to sing them. OK, that's me being grumpy. I am lonely though and I don't have anyone to do things with. I want to go and see that new David Copperfield film and also David Baddiel, the comedian, is on tour and coming here, but I'm trawling round trying to find someone who'll come with me. I could ask Bloke, but I don't want to go with him. I could go on my own, which I probably will with the film, but I don't want to see a comedy gig on my own. Meh. I wish there was someone there, who wanted to do things with me.

This Saturday singing group meets at a medical centre at the bottom of the road I used to live in, in the city. It's a converted shop, with patterned stuff stuck on the windows up to about shoulder height, then clear glass, so when you stand up to sing you can look outside and see people right there on the pavement, walking past, eating a cake, one was today. All wrapped up against the cold with hats and scarves - lots of big chunky scarves I noticed, purposeful against the wind, not fucking about.

We're all quite old, us singers, over fifty at least and quite diverse - a few nationalities and abilities - two with carers. 21 of us altogether today. There's a couple, a straight couple, who apparently met through the group. They must be in at least their 70s, in that first flush of love, and can't stop themselves singing the lyrics to each other, with fondness all over their faces. Good luck to them, I reckon. When it was my turn to choose I went for "Let's face the music and dance" which is new in the book since I was there and I haven't sung before. I kind of like the smoothness of it - I have no knowledge or vocabulary to discuss music. We had some Cohen, Beatles, The Platters, Mamas and Papas, Everley Brothers - all old stuff, for us old fuckers. Suits me, mostly. I even don't mind singing Lloyd Webber, which surprises me as I never want to listen to his songs.

Joyce posted a clip of a choir singing... OK, I'll go and find it


and it makes me want us to sing Patti Smith songs. I might send this to choir leader woman.

I'm glad to be doing singing again though I don't think I can sustain it on a weekly basis. It feels fucking great afterwards, but so does dancing and yoga and art group (sometimes) and walking and I have to get my life back under control, or let it free from too much control - I don't know. I'm exhausting myself with all this gadding about, all because I can't bear being in this house with Bloke. He had some work today so last night I asked him, "You going to be working all day tomorrow then?" hoping like fuck he was, but he said, in a reassuring tone, "No, it should only take a couple of hours," as if he hadn't noticed that I'm never home, that I choose not to be, that we don't do anything together, I haven't even been in his car for over six months. I avoid him as much as possible - how the fuck can he think I need reassuring that he won't be gone for long? Big sigh. Still, six weeks to go till I get my state pension, which is fuck all in terms of average income, but will double my income and edge me towards the possibility of self-sufficiency. You never know.

Night night xx


1:08 a.m. - 26.01.20


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