Richard Pierce

Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter


Day 129

Day job has had to be priority since I got up, so am a bit late with this for a week day. So, in haste…

M and I went to a garden centre yesterday so that she could build some protective chicken fire cages for her fledgling vegetables. Being the impractical man I am, I managed to puncture one of my fingers on the chicken wire just getting it out of the car. She built the cages without incident. Figures. How I managed to get such a practical and pragmatic woman to fall in love with me is still beyond me. 16 days until we’ve been married for 31 years.

I did my first Nordic walk for ages yesterday in an attempt to get myself anywhere near normal fitness again. It felt like I couldn’t get into a rhythm at all. I blame Norwich’s sloping and uneven pavements. That’s my greatest dislike about this place – those damn pavements. I still managed 5k in 44:23 and with a relatively intact back, so I suppose that’s ok.

The sun shines. The world turns. Cruelty everywhere. Maybe that’s why I got so hung up on memories the last few days. The real world now is very different to the real world then. Those days, despite the heartbreak, seem gentler, somehow.

I am having real trouble with these specs, but need to persevere with them for at least another four or five days. Eyes take a long time to adjust.

I know these are banalities.

The one thing I miss about being single is that I could sleep without closing curtains or blinds. It’s a small sacrifice.

Back to the luxury of just one tiny cup of espresso.

There are a million words in my head, and not enough time to write them.




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