annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary


Day 193

I did too much today. Keyboard lesson; bereavement counselling; Wednesday writing group; then writing group with new writer-in-residence at city recovery centre. Also walked dog (not far), posted letter, made passata from a bag of tomatoes M gave me and listened to R sanding and hoovering up dust all day.

In the first writing group we wrote about books - I might copy that up tomorrow, but in the second we had to write lots of sentences quickly, each beginning with "Surprisingly I love..." then choose the one we liked best and write for ten minutes, without stopping to think. Bella turned up again. I was quite surprised at some of the things she was thinking


"Surprisingly I love the wind in winter, when I’m wrapped up in my mac, thought Bella as she stomped along the seafront, facing into the wind. Her hair was being blown straight back behind her, right off her face, her eyes stung with the salt but she found she loved it, she bloody loved it. Much better here, in stone cold Sussex on a windy day, on her own on the edge of the city, on the edge of the whole country, than with those fuckers, her parents, living what they thought was the high life in fucking Estepona on the Costa del bloody Sol. This was more like it. Nothing blue here, not the sea, not the sky, all grey and muted, well, except for that blue plastic glove hurtling past her feet at a million miles an hour.
Bella felt alive – that was it – she knew she was alive. Just walking was a bit of a struggle, but a struggle she was winning, getting one trainer-clad foot down in front of the other, despite all the effort the British weather was putting in to stop her. She decided she’d walk as far as the pier, well, the remains of the pier, lurking in the water like the skeleton of good times past, the bare bones of a pavilion where music and laughter, lights and dancing had been there for the taking. Not now. Now it loomed in the water, a warning of the future that awaited us all.
But opposite a warm, yellow light glowed, shining through the gloom. The café at the bottom of the tower. Bella would walk there and have a cup of tea, or maybe even a hot chocolate. She’d always resisted that – her mother’s voice echoed in her head, “Come on, love, have a nice mug of hot chocolate, that’ll cheer you up and warm you through.” Maybe, maybe she could choose to take that, to be warmed through without surrendering to the blandishments of her mother, who didn’t really care about Bella, never had and never would. But maybe a hot chocolate would be good on this cold winter’s day.... "

Three good things: a big handful of conkers found on the dog walk, shining in the dull grass; a visit from Daughter, out the other side of a bad episode - we talked - she said there's nothing to be done except leave her along when she's like that, that's what she needs - fair enough; started keeping a food diary so I can start making sense of when I gain and lose weight - I included exercise, ie fuck all - walking 1.1 miles.

Bed now. Really keep safe, my friends. Wear masks, keep distances, wash your hands. Metaphorical hugs to you all and thanks for reading xxx

11:46 p.m. - 23.09.20


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