annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary


Jan 27th

Today was one of those days where I was thwarted at every turn, despite best intentions. Didn't make it to Buddhist Centre yoga as there'd been an accident on the bypass and traffic just stopped. Someone had managed to flip a small lorry over a hedge onto its side so there were ambulances and police cars blocking the road. I note that at this point I feel obliged and then resentful about writing something like 'I hope no one was too badly hurt,' as if it needs saying, when it shouldn't. So meh.

Instead of yoga, I went straight to meet the person I shall call Catwoman (as she's the one who gave me the cats) earlier than arranged, as we'd intended to have a meal and go for a walk but it was totally pissing down with icy rain and only one of us has a fabulous really waterproof coat, so we just sat around chatting in a cafe for hours which was great, but I need fresh air and walking - two days indoors and immobile and I start to go right off, getting pissy and mean and awash with self pity.

But I am taking action, instead of just wallowing in 'poor me'. I saw Catwoman today, my mate M is going to come with me to both those gigs I mentioned the other day and tomorrow I am seeing my old school friend P, for a walk in the predicted sunshine instead of going to the gym and being stuck indoors all day. I think I've been what they call 'ghosted' by my sister-in-law which is doing my head in - I thought we were mates, I thought she loved me like I love her, but she's cut me loose and it hurts, it undermines my feelings of being an all right sort of person. But I am working on not thinking about it, she's free to make her choices and I may yet be misreading it - she's busy and forgetful. We'll see.

My pal T from the care home, whose little boy died, has invited me to a thing on what would have been his second birthday, where she's going to release a big bunch of helium balloons. Ah fuck, I've been campaigning against those balloons because a) there's a limited amount of helium which is also used for CT scans, sometimes life-saving and b) they don't vanish or disintegrate, they deflate and get tangled up in things, often living things which then die, all wrapped up in plastic string. But I love T and she is fucking broken, she's barely still with us - I am not saying a word about the fucking balloons but I still feel shit about it and don't know if I can go, which I want to as we are the two who lost our children this year so... ach, you know...

In the meantime I keep leaping about this blog via the random entry button to the right on the diaryland page (I still double post on both wordpress and diaryland for reasons I can't begin to fathom, but dangerspouse does it too, so fuck it). These are some bits I've liked finding this evening. First, from 2011 - GS is Grandson, staying with me for halfterm:

Bloke went off to do some work and me and GS got into our rhythm of amiable bickering and point scoring. He's cool to mooch about with - spots things I'd missed, like squirrels popping in and out of a hollow log and a cat in the kids' playground. He's much happier if I don't try and initiate the conversation - we just bimble along in comfortable silence then he'll come out with, "Granny, have you noticed that you can't tell the difference between boys and girls much more here than where I live?" which leads to a nice long analysis of clothes, hair, posture, city vs village, and god knows what else, with reference to everyone who catches our eye. In the end he said he still preferred it where he lives, where a girl is a girl and looks like one and vice versa, but he's twelve - he's sensitive to all that.

and this, from 2016:
I need someone to look after me for a bit, but there's no prospect of that, that I can see. Bloke is a fucking bloke and just freezes, staring at me, scared, until I tell him I'm fine, or give him precise instructions as to what I need. If you have to tell someone you'd like them to listen while you rant and weep, saying, 'oh, I know' and 'mmm' occasionally but mainly just fucking listening, by the time you've explained it for the millionth time you give up and think you might as well write it all down and post it on the internet for all the real life hugs you're gonna get

Nothing's changed there. Then I found this photo of my darling Sam:


I can't believe I spent all those years trundling her about in the dark and the cold, along those bumpy pavements. I can't believe that I'll never do it again either.

11:50 p.m. - 27.01.20


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