annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary

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Writing things

Today I wrote a final draft of a letter to my son about mending our broken communication, about not sweeping everything under the carpet and hoping for the best. Earlier drafts had been too full of me and my stuff, excuses, explanations, blah blah blah. I think this version was OK. I copied it out by hand onto nice writing paper - not easy to find these days, I can tell you - and posted it to him with a first class stamp so it should arrive tomorrow. Yikes. I felt a bit scared as soon as I let it fall out of my hand into the postbox. But what will be will be and all that.


Into the city for yoga in the studio for once. Not my beloved Buddhist centre, but another place nearby with lovely G, the teacher I've been doing zoom classes with since the start of lockdown and have become friends with to the point of meeting up outside the class. Nice to see her and to meet P, a name I've heard for over two years and only today seen the face. It was cold though - I wore the wrong clothes and the windows had to be open for anti-covid ventilation, but apart from that it was cool. 


Up the hill to Waterstones for William's book launch which was also kind of cool, though apart from him I only knew a couple of people and he was busy so we just had a quick hug and on he went to hug again. I'd wanted to work on my project of insinuating myself into the world of local writers but when it came to it I didn't. But I hung out with I, who'd been a volunteer in the pop-up bookshop with me for the first few weeks and that was just the ticket. 


Bed now. You take care, dear friends. It's a wild world out there. It's hard to get by, just upon a smile.

12:57 a.m. - 27.05.22

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Tuesday, art, tired - 01.06.22
Alphabet - 31.05.22
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