annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary
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Day 97
Birthday day, all good. Well, not all, life isn't like that really, is it? The Tuesday art group was back, which was brilliant. We don't chat much, as there's quite a few of us, but everyone talks a bit and it was great to hear their voices, so calming, my compadres living with mental shit. We painted a river scene from a painting the teacher found somewhere:
What I learned was: that I am wasteful with my paints - I put too much on my plate then I don't have enough room to mix different colours - I need to change the water more; I put too much paint on the brush; I don't care enough to take pains. Ah well. I'm going to do Van Gogh's Starry Night next, with the Cheese and Wine Painting Club on Facebook.
Bloke was out working again (hooray). When I finished the painting I realised that Shirley was very upset so went downstairs to find two of next door's aggressive dogs in the garden - they'd dug under the fence, the bastards. As I went outside, one of them shot past me into the house - aw man, I don't know their names to call them, neither of them had collars on that I could grab, it was AWFUL for what seemed like forever but probably was only about five minutes before E, my neighbour on the other side, heard me and called the owners and the lad came round and one of the dogs shot back under the fence and I managed to catch the other one, but not before it had pissed all over the carpet and all over me - totally fearful. AWFUL. And I was hot and anxious and agitated and didn't like it at all.
But I calmed down and found lovely notes on Diaryland, thank you so much, and my niece left a bag of scones, beautiful rhubarb and ginger jam, clotted cream and elderflower cordial on my doorstep - all homemade apart from the cream, and totally delicious. I've given up the idea of not eating sweet things for another week as I now have a cake, a pile of scones and a box of chocolates, so no chance.
Daughter posted this:
which I love - it feels like me in my natural habitat - I even have half a bag of litter that I'd picked up. I went to her place and we had a little gathering in front of the flat - me and her and Grandson - which was cool - look at the lovely dress she gave me:
This entry is loads of "and then I did this" and "and then I did that", but sometimes it just is, OK? Because and then we went to a park for a picnic and realised that we hadn't brought any cutlery or plates or kitchen roll or dog poo bags and I'd brought the cheese scones with the jam and cream instead of the sweet ones, but we managed. We sat in the shade of an old oak tree and ate with our fingers, dipping the strawberries in the yoghurt, wiping our hands on Daughter's sarong, using the cardboard from the hummus pot to spread the cream on the scones, which wasn't a great flavour combo, but fuck it, who cares? It was great. Cutlery is over-rated. A small boy from a family group started following Shirley about, which was fine, she's a good girl, but then he came and sat with us and very solemnly told us that he liked crisps. We passed him the crisps and he helped himself and all was fine until after he and all his family had gone we suddenly remembered the fucking virus - shit, he shouldn't have been sitting right close to me, eating our food, but we forgot and so, presumably, did his family.
Since then I've been to M's and sat in her garden and eaten too much. All good. Night night xx
1:13 a.m. - 17.06.20
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