annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary


Day 23

I did another live writing group today. The theme was time. We started with 7 minutes writing beginning with the words "Today I am..." which was OK. The second exercise was to choose from a list of time related song titles and write in any way we wanted for ten minutes. I chose the song above and wrote this, not offered as magnificent prose, but put down to remember later:

"Who Knows Where the Time Goes".  Oh I love this song. Sandy Denny, perfect. I listened to the album it's from, Unhalfbricking, just the other day - it's so pertinent to now, heartbreaking.

It makes me think of being young, of sewing long triangles into my jeans to make flares, of hitch-hiking across the country to go to festivals, on my own, with no money, no tent, just wild optimism and a big grin. Nothing too terrible ever happened (I didn't get assaulted is what I mean by that, I suppose). I slept in itchy piles of hay and big marquees and ate dodgy, lumpy, brown, free food, smoked too much dope and saw Fairport Convention as the sun went down, long, long ago. The Kinks came on next, Ray Davies so pissed he couldn't stand up, his brother, livid, spitting fury. Everything makeshift, ramshackle, real.

The next day a man climbed the highest circus ladder and dived off into a bathtub of water. I knew he'd die - those two seconds between his dive and his successful landing were the longest ever - time stretching out into an infinity of terror.

I've owned the Unhalfbricking album in every format over the years, since it first came out in 1969 and I've never gone a whole year without listening to it. My CD is now unplayable - it's been on the floor of my car since Abbey Road got jammed in the stereo - so I played it via Spotify - who does know where the time goes? Now my grandson is nearly 21 and I still feel the same as ever - scruffy, a bit adventurous, independent. I still love festivals - sad about Glasto this year, looking forward to next year, keeping going, keeping on.

Apart from that it was more mask-making, including doing all the cutting out while 'attending' the recovery centre Friday art group. There were only two of us there, plus the new art facilitator and I think that's because she's a pain in the neck. It's all about her all the time, blethering on, not asking questions or offering help, just telling us how great she is. I won't 'go' again.

Anyway, here's my work station - still with the sarong over the mirror since Sunday when I was dancing the 5Rhythms and didn't need to keep catching sight of myself - it was quite awkward to get in place so it may stay there for the duration


It's also the dining room and my yoga studio. I tried the shaped mask today, with the ties instead of the elastic, having read that elastic becomes painful behind the ears after a while, but it was a) bloody difficult to make - took me all morning to make just one and b) horrid when I put it on - made me panic almost at once having my face covered like that


and it was baggy at the sides, and hard to do the ties without getting tangled up in hair,  leaving me thinking I just don't bloody know.

So I went to the beach for a walk with the dog. The tide was in over the end of the breakwaters and I would've had to walk along the prom but I could see straight away that people weren't making room for each other, were just passing close by, almost brushing shoulders. I stood watching for a bit, had a chat about it with another dog walker, keeping a good distance, then went to the small park and did laps round the edges, criss-crossing over the paths between the bowling greens. Son called me while I was there as he'd finished work for the week and it was OK, walking and chatting with my boy.

Today I: meditated, did a yin yoga session, walked, ate well, did a writing workshop, talked to both kids and to W, a much younger friend who called me needing reassurance that she's doing right by her little children - having been brought up by an alcoholic, agoraphobic mother she has wobbly foundations, but her instincts look good to me. I signed up to a postcard art group where we'll make postcard sized art works and send them to strangers and receive them too.

I am grateful for: speaking to my kids; eating lunch in the garden as it was warm enough - too early to be that warm, ffs, it's early April, but still nice to feel the sun warming my face; having enough space to do the things I want to do; being able to manage living with Bloke without wanting to kill either him or myself all the time; a warm bed on a chilly night.


12:46 a.m. - 04.04.20


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