annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary


Day 122

I've done fuck all today except reboil the jam which still didn't set, get ready for the live online yoga without noticing the guy is having three weeks off, so got angry instead of chilled, then did a youtube yin yoga class and spent the rest of the day in bed reading my book. So fuck Sunday. My leg still hurts and still looks gross but I'm going to take a photo of it tomorrow and send it to the GP as I can't face going to A&E and waiting around for at least four hours trying not to get into any kind of state, sitting on hard chairs with the telly on loud, tuned to the shittest daytime TV, surrounded by people in pain.

In the meantime here's some of the stuff I wrote on Friday. The first piece is from the recovery centre group. The guy had been for a walk and taken a photo of an old house with a very overgrown garden, which we were invited to write about in any way we liked.

I loved it. The longer I lived here the more it suited me, as the roses and jasmine grew up and around, covering everything, hiding me inside in a green, shady space which no one knew about. Gradually nature reclaimed the house as it reclaimed me. The walls and windows vanished under the leaves and inside I grew wild, a thick thatch of unbrushed hair, nails so long they curled, dirt in the folds of my skin. My brother left food parcels on the step - I watched till he'd gone and snatched them in, stuffing biscuits into my mouth one after another, swilling them down with orange juice, then grabbing the tobacco and rolling myself a fat cigarette which I smoked quickly, hungrily. I liked living like this, I felt peace at last, at one with my world. I wasn't completely alone - mice had found their way in and set up homes all over the place, little families that grew and grew, scampering around, even running over my legs sometimes, which gave me a warm glow inside, as if they were my children. I don't know what they ate - I didn't let them have any of my food. I may not know much but I know that chocolate Hobnobs are not mouse food.

I have no idea where that came from. The next bit is from the usual Friday group. The teacher is writing a novel and has made a pinterest page of  all kinds of stuff to immerse herself in the world she's creating, including clothes and haircuts for her characters. She posted a page of 'characters' - ie random photos of people off the internet - and invited us to choose one and describe them doing something. Fuck knows where this came from either. The photo I chose was of a woman probably in her seventies with an elegant short haircut and simple, expensive looking clothes. As always, I wrote without pause for seven minutes then stopped.
Eileen stepped carefully across the field, avoiding what looked like wet patches, trying to find flat, dry ground. What was she doing here? What had she agreed to go on a 'date' with this man, one of Joan's neighbour's friends, said to be lovely, just her type. But he'd brought her here - they'd driven separately to a layby, climbed over a gate - he was most apologetic about that - said he'd forgotten that would be necessary, but she'd given him a look to shut him up and tried to get over the gate with as much dignity as possible. Now they were crossing this field towards a group of trees. His excitement was palpable - she could see he thought he had the treat of a lifetime in store for her, but honestly, she didn't know if she could be bothered. These shoes were new and really rather gorgeous - they should be gliding across an antique rug, not dodging between messy, unsavoury, brown patches of goodness knows what. And she'd forgotten his name. It was something she'd thought was a bit modern for a man of his age, Darren? No... Finn? No, not Finn, not that modern. She smiled to herself and almost slipped

So yay, go me, two bits of fictional writing. One of the women who comes to the Friday group is also writing a novel and for all the exercises she uses her two main characters and just puts them in whatever situation the teacher comes up with. It's a bit fantastic and I am quite tempted to do something similar, maybe using characters from different novels I've written, one from each and put them in together, see what happens.

Today I am grateful for: finding the energy to wash my bedding, get it dry on the line in the windy sunshine and back on the bed already; a peaceful afternoon reading in bed; chat with Daughter; Bloke hoovered round; finished before midnight

I hope you are all well - it's a wild world out there - take care - big hugs - thank you for reading xxx

11:59 p.m. - 12.07.20


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