annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary


Day 37

Well, yesterday was awful, but here we are, keeping on, keeping going, if not quite being calm and carrying on.

After I posted last night I made myself go out for a short walk because I do have a shred of something or other... reluctance to fall right back into the black pit of hopelessness, maybe. Shirley and I just walked to the corner and back, past the lovely blossom tree - cherry or something:


Today has been better, though not entirely great. I did the Friday art group on zoom, to hang out with J-B, the woman who gave me the cats. I put the tablet down low so she could see them and both of them separately responded to the sound of her voice, immediately, fuckers. They've never shown any sign of even recognising their names in the six months they've lived with us. Still, she was very impressed that Mischa was lying down next to me on the sofa as apparently he never used to tolerate anyone that close.

The new Friday art facilitator still annoys me, still talks endlessly about herself when her paid job is to be there for us, the clients. She does things like ask how you are, then when you say, "OK-ish," she launches into a great long spiel about how she's had a bad week, detailing all the ups and downs and making me think shut up, I don't care. But there you go. It was nice to see J-B  and I sat for hours doing more splishy sploshy watercolours, all of which will be in the post tomorrow:


Oh and writing workshop - blimey I'd forgotten I'd done that today as well. She read us this poem by Róisín Kelly


You walk by holding a bunch of flowers
never knowing that you’ve just performed a miracle.
Are those flowers for your girl?
I imagine her dressed up like an Easter egg
in yellow and pink. I’d tap at you like an egg,
cracking your thin chocolate shell.
If I were made of chocolate too, I’d break
off parts of myself to give to you and your girl.
Once, I gave my words for garden
and water and moonlit and love
to a man who kissed me. After he rolled
a stone over my heart and shut me off
from the world, I had no words left
to describe the dark dream that followed.
Now you’ve walked by, godlike in jeans
and an old t-shirt, the sun glinting on one
silver earring. Now a rose is once again
not only rose but also soft and red
and thorn and bee and honey.
Now a bird is singing song and tree
and nest in a high place and blue speckled egg.
You yourself are glowing with words, they move
up and down you as if they’re alive.
The words bring themselves to me
and tell my tongue sweetness over and over.
The words are everything. With them,
I’ll turn water to wine at your wedding.

and invited us to respond in any way that came to us, seven minutes. This was mine:
"Now you've walked by, godlike in jeans and an old t-shirt..." This line made me jump with surprise at how long it's been since I felt that, how many years, decades since I felt a thrill of admiration for a man. I'm right off them - I hadn't realised how much till I heard that line and heard it as alien, outside my experience, beyond understanding. Today I feel a bit sad about that, but not a lot. I've worshipped and even been worshipped. I've fallen in love by the side of the road, and once on the slow train from Brighton to London Bridge, hot kisses in a corridor, commuters' frowns. Now I am someone else, though that young girl still lurks inside, under years and years of fidelity and boredom, indifference and independence. I'm glad she popped up to wave across the decades. from the 1970s to me, here at my table in rainy lockdown.

Meh really. Blissful online live yoga nidra again tonight, long, deep relaxation. I do my yoga in the back room which extends out into the conservatory. As we were getting deep into the relaxation a storm passed over, fat raindrops hammering on the glass roof, wind rattling the windows, howling through the trees. It felt fantastic to be lying all soft and snug on my mat, a bolster under my knees, a blanket keeping me warm, Shirley up against my side and lovely Leo (F, short for Leonie) gently guiding us, keeping us safe in the storm.

I found this to contribute to the Twitter thing where you post a photo of yourself age 20:


What surprises me is that I always thought I was overweight, if not fat, even then. Shocking. And now, when I weigh fifteen stone, as opposed to the ten I weighed then, I think I'm a bit tubby but nothing to worry about. Always delusional, unreliable narrator, especially of my internal dialogue.

I am grateful for: friends; family; a message from Danger; yoga; the internet.

Keep safe, especially you in the US - this shit is real. Good night xxx


12:20 a.m. - 18.04.20


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