annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary


Day 75

The trouble with having the wrong day as the title (because I miscounted when I decided, a few weeks in, this was a lockdown log, so could have numbered days) is that it goes on being wrong, but harder to correct. I mean, I could just go back, call this Day 70 or whatever it really is and take it from there... maybe I will, tomorrow, or some other day that isn't this one.

This has been another day where I felt bad, miserable and tired and behind then at the end realised I'd done shit loads. This morning feels like light years away, fuck knows about that. I do remember the Natural Health Centre's half hour meditation which I do lying down on my bed and always drift away, coming back at the precise time she says, "Now gently start to bring yourself back to the room. Wriggle your fingers and toes." Why do I always hear that? I can't actually be asleep or I wouldn't wake at that moment every time, but I do. I feel great afterwards too, very chilled.

I seem to have lost what I did after that before my music lesson - still struggling with using my left hand at the same time as my right, in a way that shows me interesting aspects of thought processes, if nothing else. With my right hand I can play the tune to Morning Has Broken, from reading the sheet music, usually with only one or two mistakes the first time I play it in any session, then I'm good. I couldn't read music at all before, so this is a skill I've picked up, yay, go me etc. Now the teacher wants me to play a note written above each bar with my left hand as I go along playing the tune. But when I do that, I lose the ability to read the sheet music - it just fucks right off. On its own, I know that the note sat on the middle line is a B (every good Boy deserves fucks) (what, you didn't learn that?) and that it's to the right of the group of three black notes, but as soon as I'm using my left hand as well, it's nothing but a blob on a bunch of lines. Teacher says to just do it slowly, as slowly as I need to, and to keep on and it will come. She reckons I've made progress since last week, but I must have been real crap then as I'm rubbish now.

At last I made it out for a proper walk. It's been either too hot for me so my ankles and fingers swell up and I get all woozy, or it's been fucking windy and I get ear-ache. But today it was just nice and warm with a light breeze so I took Shirley up onto the hills and it was just lush:


And I managed to clear a space and prepare a board and some paper ready to do another paint-along tomorrow. I think I'm going for the Hockney - The Arrival of Spring - tomorrow then Picasso's Rooster next time.

I am proud of how I've been cracking on, picking myself up when I get down, not letting myself dwell there for too long. It's not all good, far from it, but it's been OK. I've really liked not spending half my life sat in traffic.

I am grateful today for: living by the hills, a long chat with sister-in-law, Shirley being good off the lead; Daughter perking up; bed, now


1:19 a.m. - 26.05.20


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