annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Day 270 Better than it has been. I got the Philippa Perry book about therapy, Couch Fiction, and half way through I realised I've never had *therapy*, just counselling, so I'm going to go for it and just deciding that perked me up quite a bit. The next stage is finding a therapist but I have plans for how to go about that. Today was the last day of two writing groups, thank fuck. There was a while there when Wednesdays went: keyboard lesson, bereavement counselling, writing group, memoir writing, which would be too much for any fucker, let alone someone who is quite tired already, actually. The memoir group was a mistake really - why did I ever think I'd have access to a brain cell at the end of the day? But I enjoyed it. Tonight we all read a bit and honestly, there was some fantastic writing, just about every piece. You don't often get that with groups, I promise you. It's left me feeling a bit more positive about a memoir, but not just yet. In the other group we wrote in response to a list of titles of Christmas singles, B grudgingly accepting that although she feels fucked off with it, others might be feeling a bit festive. I'm not, but I suddenly remembered this incident which I will share here: 'Merry Christmas, everyone!' 'I wish it could be Christmas every day!' - those were the songs, in 1972, 73 and 74 when I was working in, managing even, a record shop. In the last week building up to Christmas we sold thousands of these infuriating singles, Slade, Wizzard, Mud, all that lot. The shop was owned by Roger - it had been financed by one of his mates who won the football pools. He'd set Roger up with a record shop at the top of the town, in an ancient red brick Tudor building, at least 300 years old if not more, and across the road there was John with his Hi-Fi shop. We were all mates and one Christmas Eve I escaped the madness at our place and went across to the Hi-Fi shop for a breather. "Have a mince pie!" A plateful was thrust towards me.
Night night xxx 10:28 p.m. - 09.12.20 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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