annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary


Queuing for the post

I didn't wake up till 11.30 this morning, so I slept for ten and a half hours. That seems a lot. It doesn't leave much of the day. I'd arranged to have a chat with my pal J "late morning" so I made a quick coffee and rang her. We were on the phone for an hour, which was fab - I'm trying to have one good phone conversation a day during this lockdown - but next thing I knew it was 1.30 and sun set is at 4.30 so the day was very short and left me feeling hard done by, though it was all me, no one else to blame.

But when I weighed myself I was down to 86.4 kg which means my BMI is now 28.8, just overweight, no longer obese and heading down to 25 which is healthy. Apparently I have to lose another 11 kg, to be just inside the healthy bit on the chart. I think they have a skinny ideal for normal, but I'm going to keep going for a bit more. I'm kind of in the swing of eating two reasonable meals a day and don't struggle with it too much apart from occasional series of nights when I feel compelled to come downstairs and make myself some cheese and crackers. But I'm down 11 kg already - I think if I lose 20 kg in a year that's considered a success, in dieting world. This is my first ever diet and I intend for it to be my last. I will carry on weighing myself every morning so that I can keep it from rising too far once I go back to having cake every now and then and panna cotta mmmm panna cotta - how I love it!

I was going to walk to the post office and back which would be 2.7 miles, exactly right for my 1000 miles a year thing, and I did set out, but got about a hundred metres from home and thought I couldn't face walking through these streets again, so came back, got in the car and drove there. I had to queue as they're only having three customers in at a time, and had to wait a while, crawling past the closed travel agency and dress shop, with a big bloke in front of me and another behind. The High Street is modern, flat roofed buildings, most of the shops closed, many closed right down. The old Post Office building was sold off and sits there covered in flyers, while waiting for the new owners to get planning permission to knock it down and build flats. The new Post Office is a counter in the back of a small grocery/stationers with only two clerks. People are rude to the staff - one of them was having as to-do with a customer while I was next to enter the shop - I couldn't hear what was said but I could see her expression. While I was further back in line a bloke fetched up with his two young daughters, looked at the queue, said 'Sod this. You wait here, girls,' and went straight in ahead of probably six or seven of us. He seemed to have been served, the fucker. The rest of us, rolled our eyes and muttered behind our masks.

When I'd posted the painting to M and a jar each of marmalade and lemon curd to Son, I decided that as I was out in the car anyway I'd drive to the seafront and walk on the pier. It was bitterly cold and I'd forgotten my hat but I found a nice red cashmere scarf amongst the debris on the back seat and tied that round my head, over my ears. The glamour, darlings, the glamour. I kept my mask on as it was busy - too busy. Me and my little dog walked to the end of the pier and back then west as far as the care home where Sammie lived. Shirley seems to have forgotten now - the first few times we walked that way she pulled to cross the road where we always used to cross to take Sam home, but she didn't today. This morning J and I talked about ashes and where they should go - she started it by saying she wants a grave where her daughters can visit and sit - I'd like that too - to visit her I mean. None of my dead friends have graves. We're all cremation here on this small island and then ashes get scattered. I still have Sam's ashes in my grandparents' glass fronted cabinet, surrounded by the cuddly toys she loved right to the end. It doesn't feel like her. It does to the extent that I can't just put her out with the rubbish, to go to the tip, but it doesn't resonate in the way her clothes do, or photos of her.

Three Good Things today
1. Long Lost Family is back on, where darling Davina reunites adopted families who've been searching forever to find each other. It always makes me cry - tonight's had a couple searching for their son. They'd been young teenagers who fell in love in Ireland, she got pregnant, they came to London, had the baby, all good till their landlady spotted the baby and chucked them out onto the street. They asked a Catholic agency to look after the baby while they were homeless and looked for a new place and the fuckers gave him away to be adopted. They had to go to court to try and get him back and the court said no, he'd be better off with a middle class, married, settled couple. End of story, till now, 45 years later. Turns out he moved to Spain with them when he was 4 and is now basically a Spanish bloke, but he was thrilled they wanted to see him, they all look like each other and we all cried. Fab.
2. I had a long chat with London M as well, while I was walking round the pier. Good.
3. Leftovers for dinner - so many things are nicer, richer, more umami, when reheated the next day, aren't they?


11:11 p.m. - 18.01.21


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Meeting MC - 25.01.21
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