annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary


Day 175

Look at my foot! The bruise is coming out at last - well, I say at last but it might have been there for days and I didn't notice. I wake up in the morning and it doesn't feel too bad but after the barest minimum of walking about it swells back up and hurts like fuck.


It occurred to me that as the sponsored walk is being done with everyone walking their own route, alone or in very small family/friendship groups, I can wait until my leg is better and do it then, Honestly though, how much moaning have I had to do about my legs recently? There was the infected wound a couple of years ago, when my brother died, and now this and the other leg being infected. Bloody rubbish.


I did the creative writing workshop and am now seriously considering signing up for the full two year part-time course. I haven't decided yet. I'd have to give up the ones I do at the moment and I've become attached to my Sheffield teacher. It's strange - my pal L was living in Sheffield for four years and I never made it up there but now I do this Sheffield-based zoom writing workshop and most of the others live in the city and used to go to the live classes. I like the way they speak and feel I'm being drawn there but don't want to go now L doesn't live there.

There were twelve of us today and after doing a couple of 'introduce yourself' exercises we were all asked to write for 5/6 minutes starting with "Jane looked out of the window to see what the noise was and to her amazement..." It was brilliant as everyone responded so differently. This is mine:

Jane looked out of the window to see what the noise was and to her amazement it was him - her bloody ex - not even her ex-husband though here he was in a state about her getting married. Father of her now adult girls, but only via sperm not actual parenting.

Standing in the street waving a fucking placard like that twat in Love Actually "Don't marry him - marry me!" written in a Sharpie on a sheet of cardboard packaging with a fold in the middle that he struggled to control. Pissed, of course, swaying and shuffling, with that face of mournful sentimentality that made her want to smack him, hard.

But she wasn't going to. She closed the curtains. Her days of responding to his nonsense were long past. He'd either get fed up and wander off or he'd pass out on the street and someone else would do something. The narrow street of terraced houses had a 24 hour Tesco Express on the corner, someone would be along.

Jane wandered into the kitchen and put the kettle on, feeling pleased at not caring. She did a quick check... no, she didn't care. Good.

Other people saw animals, weird SF shit, old friends, children stealing bricks from the house opposite, a fire, someone had gone back in time - it was fab. We were only allowed to read the first three sentences - I don't really do coherent sentence divisions so I kept going till 'that he struggled to control' and the teacher thought it was romantic fiction! I didn't tell her to fuck off as I might want to do the course. I was actaully more interested in the creative non-fiction, but there are no places left on that. I found the prompts more challenging, my responses less satisfactory, and that's a good thing, perhaps. Maybe I'll try to get an early application in for next year.

I also went to the beach with my friend M but was in a total dither. I forgot the dog, my bottle of water and my beach shoes. Driving there hurt more than I expected and I felt as though wriggling out of my clothes and into my bikini while standing on shifting pebbles would not end well, so I didn't get right in the water, just oicked my skirt up above my knees and paddled, leaning on my stick, like a proper granny.

Three good things today: lovely long phone call from Son who is my darling boy - I love that we have a laugh together; kindness from so many people about my injury, making me feel cared for; sitting outside in the sun and the wind, on the beach with M, chatting shit for hours and hours.

Goodnight xxx

12:06 a.m. - 06.09.20


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