Day 146
Last night, M and I went out for dinner, just the two of us, for the first time since before the pandemic began. We hadn’t initially planned to do anything… Continue Reading
Browsing Category: Writing
Day 137
There are juvenile thrushes in the trees. They scream continuously and are scaring the older cat who likes to come down to the bottom of the garden to drink out… Continue Reading
Day 136
Yesterday was an odd day. I felt totally lethargic for most of it, even wrote a poem about how the greyness seemed to be sucking the life out of me…. Continue Reading
Day 134
Last night, I went to bed thinking about Aggie and how things might progress from yesterday’s chapter. Interestingly enough, although I have, in the past, dreamed whole long chapters of… Continue Reading
Day 127
So I found the poem to the unknown woman in Avignon. It was August 1987. Memory is not an exact time until you find the evidence. A bit like emotions…. Continue Reading
Day 126
It’s a year to the date that we moved from Stradbroke (the old village as I now call it) to Norwich. And, for some reason, I am running late this… Continue Reading
Day 120
Two blackbirds this morning. First the one which looks vaguely plump and familiar. I started talking to it, and it came closer to me, wiping its beak on the dew-dropped… Continue Reading
Day 117
Today, I start therapy again. I don’t now what will come of it, if we’ll decide that I don’t need something long-term again, or that we’ll decide that I’d be… Continue Reading
Day 116
Last night I dreamed of my secondary school headmaster, the one who told me I wasn’t clever enough to get into Cambridge because, that morning, I hadn’t realised there was… Continue Reading
Day 114
It is easy to imagine there are invisible sprites on the garden swing on these sunny windy mornings when the seat gently sways backwards and forwards, and the plants under… Continue Reading