annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Busy Monday night and we're back into cautious optimism that the liar and his supporters have reached the end of the road. Cautious because anyone halfway decent would be already gone, but decency is not a concept that can be applied to British public life these days. And we don't know how it will go. We do know - well some of us know - that we're a laughing stock around the world and that it serves us right for having been so up ourselves about British justice and all round superiority and blah blah blah. I've always hated all that - the US does it as well, claiming good qualities as particularly American or British as if they aren't the qualities good people aspire to the world over, as if the US and the UK weren't among the very worst for using force to impose their will on others. So, despite the tone of that paragraph I feel a bit more cheerful. I've taken steps today as well. I've booked a sewing class to finish my coat. I've discovered that I'd booked a ticket to see at talk at Charleston festival "A room of one's own" (this being the house where Virginia Woolf's sister Vanessa Bell lived as part of the Bloomsbury group) on Wednesday for fuck's sake. I continue to be rubbish at chilling out and taking it easy. Tomorrow: Tuesday art, lunch with SB, take dog to groomers for hair cut. Reading party on zoom in the evening for W Shaw's new book. Weds: Therapy, lunch, meet SD, do an event in the Riwak, this:
Then on to Charleston, then Thursday: writing, dancing in the Riwak, yoga - in person because afterwards I go straight to Waterstones for the launch of W Shaw's new book, as mentioned above. Friday - art in the museum. If anyone asks me to do anything else I shall have to say NO!! I seem to have stopped knitting my cardigan. I'm almost halfway done. It sits there in a big green box, a cube the size of an album cover, and I just ignore it. I hope it gets finished before it starts actually gathering dust. My sister had to have her dog put down today. Little Alfie, the French bulldog, whose breathing was getting worse and worse and whose legs suddenly went wonky and massive tumours were discovered. So the vet said best to let him go. He was almost ten, not a bad age for a Frenchie, apparently. I feel sad - he was a dear little dog, very lovely with the grandchildren when they were babies. Early night now. Sleep tight y'all xx 12:14 a.m. - 24.05.22 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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