Chin up; tits out

This is the mood I'm aspiring to tonight:



I was in the audience that afternoon, thrilled beyond compare at fabulous Shirl, bellowing along at the top of my voice, dancing in my wellies.

Meanwhile, the gutty stuff has been continuing, hard slog in several directions, but I am doing my absolute best to keep things balanced, to jam some fucking joy into daily life, no matter what.

Step one - a bunch of flowers:



dead cheap too, only two quid. I'm a recent convert to gladdies having been put off by their conotations of Dame Edna and bloody Morrissey (dunno how he spells his name and don't care), but that wasn't their fault. Buy yourself a bunch of flowers, go on, I dare you. If you really, really can't afford it, go and pick a bunch of pretty weeds. (I have been very not-bossy out there in Real Life, so I need to balance that out here.) (That's tonight's excuse, at any rate.)

Step two: get down the beach. Yesterday I was too agitated to be able to find my swimsuit, but Bloke and I went for a walk, though I only walked from the car park to the shore, a distance of some twenty yards, and stood in the sea:



debating with myself whether or not to swim in my knickers and dry myself with my jacket. I never used to give a shit about that, going in the sea topless, in just my underwear, if I'd fetched up at the beach unprepared. Just don't catch anyone's eye, and hold your head up - it's only the few paces into the water where you're really exposed and if you do it quickly and without a fuss, no one ever seems to mind and if they do they can fuck off, the fuckers. I couldn't do it yesterday though - the thought of inciting disapproval from anyone at all was more than I could contemplate, so I indulged in a bit of fear and self-loathing, before realising that I haven't done that (fear and self-loathing), not in this truly horrible way for ages and ages and ages. Which cheered me up a bit. I am definitely better than I was and am currently truly worn out.

last night I ate nearly a whole family sized sticky toffee pudding and didn't care. Still don't. With creme fraiche - gives a lovely tartness.

To the beach with bloke again today and I did swim and o the bliss of floating weightless, tossed gently by the waves under a clear blue sky, breathing the fresh tangy air, feeling the tension untangle itself from my body and ebb away. I love the wooden sea defences, always a slightly different shape after each winter:



but I still mainly fail to get the horizon horizontal, though when it's too awful it can be cropped out:





I love living by the sea, even, or perhaps especially a scrap of beach behind the power station, inhabited by crows as well as seagulls:



And to swim in September - the end of September. Such a gift, a few extra days of summer. It's supposed to last for another couple of days so I'm thinking of doing it properly tomorrow. Packing a bag with a days supplies - food, book, drawing things, smokes - and taking my sunbed and NOT MY PHONE. Spending the whole day there before we pack up for the winter.

Grateful for: A fab new read , Australian, wonderful dialogue; a little energy surge after my swim that led to a clean(ish) kitchen and a change of bedding, both of which have been a long time coming; nothing I have to do tomorrow, nothing at all; open windows, billowing curtains; the time I've had in my little house.

Sweet dreams xx

Clap your hands

Wrote this last night but the internet went down - I remembered to save it, woo hoo, go me. Old dog new tricks etc.

----------------------------------------
I fell asleep on the sofa when I got in from my art class this afternoon and slept for four straight hours. Oy. Wide awake now, as we approach 2 am, which is bollocks, but asi es la bloody vida.

Totally groggy - have been for the last few days, but realise I am one of the lucky ones. Everywhere I look there seems to be pain and suffering of an order I can't begin to imagine, and frankly don't want to imagine. I'm retreating for a bit - hopefully a longer bit than last time, when I had one day lazing around, next day filled with chores, then back on the fucking motorway and back into the fray. I just wish I had access to a skint teenager who would like to clean my house properly for minimum wage. There used to be loads of them around, for years, always prepared to wash dishes or run the hoover round for the price of a packet of fags. Bastards all grew up - now they spend their money on disposable nappies and mortgages. Sigh.

Art class today:







I felt a bit crap as everyone else took one subject and worked on it for the whole time, whereas I only make my drawings worse after about ten minutes, but that's just the way it is, so no point getting in a state about it.

----------------------------------------

Now it's Wednesday, sun is shining, making me feel guilty again for hiding indoors with closed curtains when I could (see how I avoided should?) be out basking in a bit of Indian summer. Telling myself I might have a swim in the sea, but have no idea where to start looking for my swimsuit.

Grateful for: ED on her way to MS Therapy Centre as I write - v hopeful about good things coming from this; my physical health - still standing; still have last night's dinner so no need to food shop; bloody cat has stopped clinging to me - I know she was anxious cos I've been away so much, but honestly, enough is enough; a blog to maon in.

Laters xx

Whoa-oh how the life goes on

YD has gone home, which is good, or it will be when she actually arrives. Just had a call from her - she's taken all my Amy Bloom books, having read one of them while here, was so engrossed she missed her stop and is currently reading on a railway station platform somewhere in south east London. There's a train at 00.30 to a place where she thinks she'll be able to get a bus. Sigh. [Update - there wasn't a bus so she had to take a cab - £17, but she's home now]

The situation with ED is deteriorating, in a terrible circle of stress and fatigue causing severe cognition problems which result in her missing appointments or turning up and forgetting why she's there and saying she's fine, so she's not getting any help with the stress and fatigue, which are also having a huge negative impact on her family life which stresses her out even more. SIL has finally come out as anti-notbob - hates having me there. I cannot swear that I have behaved as well as I might have done - I think I have but I've been wrong about such things before. I am stepping back - god even as I write that I question it. I am aware of (and try to restrain) my tendency to want to 'rescue' people, which is not the same as supporting them and results in shitloads of unsolicited advice, but I also feel there's no one else looking out for ED. It's all far, far too hard. But at least she has a big, fat, mouse-catching ginger cat who loves her to death:



and is pretty good at squeezing himself into small spaces without knocking things over, n'est-ce pas?

Art class today - pen and wash, but only pen today. In retrospect, I can see that I was pretty uptight:



It's not like me to make such small pictures - I didn't think of it till YD pointed it out, but bloody hell, shells in out first class. They are so difficult. I tried it from several different angles, but I was all stiff and trying too hard, until I gave up and had a go at things other people were working on. I think I was finding my feet a bit with the starfish and then the class finished. I'll try again tomorrow with some of the shells and pebbles I have kicking around the place - I can never quite manage to go to the beach without bringing something back so there's plenty to hand.

First job though, is the bloody h ousing b enefit bollocksy shite that I have to sort out by Friday. I have to somehow convince them that they should pay my rent instead of demanding that I get Son to return the money I gave him to finish his education. Wish me luck.

Grateful for: an empty, peaceful house; having "Submarine" to watch tomorrow; fish fingers for tea - cheap, easy, fairly nutritious and not too vile; long phone call with M; having my pc back so that the bloody Bob can sit on it while I'm writing instead of trying to sit on my lap/the keyboard:



Sweet dreams xx

Tuesday

List form:

1) I'm going to change that picture - too depressing. When I can get on the pc to see my pics though - they're all too small on here

2) Acupuncture yesterday - she said my chi had plummeted again and is exhausted. Ordered me to rest rest rest. Easy to comply with.

3) YD is being efficient today, sorting out a room in halls and her student finance - such a relief. She's going home this evening.

4) New art class in a minute - I should get dressed and eat something.

5) Son starts his law course tomorrow - what a great kid he is. I imagine the setting as Dickensian, a bit Bleak House, but it'll probably be in a horrid sixties block.

6) Letting agent yesterday advised me to wait until October when the students are all settled and things don't move so bloody quickly. Good plan.

Grateful for: art class; warm; phone calls; YD getting going; autumn telly

xxxx

If you want a boxer I will step into the ring for you

I'm half watching a documentary about Pink Floyd - man I put up with some shit when I was young. How many hours of my life were spent waiting for 'Atom Heart Mother' to end so I could put on some Led Zep?

I'm a bit frazzled - just blurted a whole load of stuff on that closed MS carers page - well, not on the page, in a private message, after being invited to do so by someone kind who'd imagined correctly that I needed to rant. Now I feel terrible for pouring it all into her inbox but can't take it back and don't want to embroil her in the web of neurotic apologies that are pounding in my head. (See - that's what all that jangly music does to you.) The people active on that page are all partners of people with MS, and I can't open my heart to let any of them in right now, though they are opening theirs to me, some of them.

I don't know how to only care a little bit - either I do or I don't (this contributed in no small part to my downfall as a teacher). As well as all the good stuff, this world is full of pain, full of it, terrible stuff happening all over the place right now, and I can't bring myself to invite any more up close to me. This sounds meaner than I judge it to be - it's self defence as I feel myself moving towards the Pit of Doom, and I ain't going there again, not if I can avoid it.

And I can. Avoid it, that is. I'm in the habit of monitoring myself and taking appropriate action to restore equilibrium. Utterly fed up with it - so keen to just bloody live instead of all this fucking managing myself, but that will happen when life calms down (hollow laugh).

Tomorrow there's acupuncture, the next day art classes resume. On Wednesday I'm going to make myself look as mainstream as possible then go round all the estate agents who accept tenants on benefits to see if I can get them to actually tell me about a suitable flat when one comes up. So that's two healing, soothing things before I have to exert myself again.

YD and I have taken up singing since the workshop. All the way home in the car and during the ad breaks all evening. As she's plotting this drag cabaret act, she's practising songs entitled 'I'm Your Man' such as those by Leonard Cohen and Wham. Just as well we're moving soon.

Grateful for: feeling more cheerful at the end of this entry than I did at the beginning; being at home on my own sofa with my own tiny cat; YD having plans; the kindness of strangers; the kindness of friends

Sweet dreams xx

I feel so broke up, I wanna go home

I can't believe I came charging up here on Thursday, full of determination to get ED out of the house and out of the doldrums and absolutely forgot that I'm still meant to be 'pacing myself'.

Yesterday was just too much - too much physical, but also too much emotional. ED talks about leaving SIL every time I see her (she starts it, honest - I wouldn't push her into a decision that big, no matter how much I want to), and it's SO hard to listen to because it's the same stuff every time, except a bit more and a bit worse. She still has hope that he'll change, which I don't share. I mean, he might change, people do all the time, but change tends to be unpredictable and not necessarily convenient.

Now YD is here too and she's a bit manic - full of ideas about starting a business and developing a drag cabaret act and her next art project and I don't know what else. So she's yabbering away in one ear while the other one forgets everything she's said, so says it or asks it again and again and again. She couldn't remember that we were going to the singing workshop, she just knew we wouldn't be home at some point and kept asking when we were going out and why. I keep myself afloat by believing that these cognition problems are part of an episode of MS, but it's been going on for fucking months and sometimes I have searing flashes of fear that my ED is gone forever, which doesn't help anything actually. Though she's still smart and funny as well as being slow and vague, all just ebbing and flowing. Terrible for her.

The singing was good - the girls both loved it, but I lost it half way through and could suddenly hear my voice, really loud and deep and out of tune and although we'd just been talked through all the whys and wherefores of singing, I couldn't relax and breathe into it. Too tired and I just wanted to go home, home to my house and my little bobcat and my big bed, not this bloody airbed on the floor and that naughty mouse-catching giant ginger cat and too much hard hard stuff.

They're going to come down to mine next weekend, which will be better, I think.

Grateful for: my health; delicious custard with pudding tonight; YD cooking dinner while I lay on the sofa and watched Celebrity Masterchef and found myself liking the actor who plays boring bloody Tony in Hollyoaks; art class starting again this Tuesday; the airbed, which is far more comfortable than the sofa.

Sweet dreams xx

Yeah yeah yeah

Lordy, lordy. Knackered as a knackered thing from the planet Knacker.

Wheelchair pushing is hard. Out round the woods, off the path, pressing through to a clearing:


then we found a trail designed for easy access and mooched around that for a while



taking frequent rests:



Since then it's been round town, including up one short but ridiculously too steep hill, the fucking supermarket which supplies 'wheelchair trolleys' that don't fit ED's chair - the basic self-propelled chair supplied by the NHS; cooking dinner and skulking on GS's room while the rest of them watched Harry yawn Potter double yawn.

I want to shove them in the car (ED and GS) and take them home with me, away from chief suppressor of joy aka SIL. I could rant at length, but I won't.

Happy weekend xxx

Whereon the stair? Right there!

Things I forget about being up here at ED's:

1) They all go to bed so fucking early - 9.30 and it's just me and the fat ginger cat.
2) that I should ask them how the Sky+ remote works before they go to bed

Things I remembered:

1) That I don't know how the remote works so I'm sticking to up and down channels rather than trying any clever stuff and getting stuck with weird shit that I can't get rid off. Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks, eh? Knowing what you don't know is always handy.
2)They don't buy veg - I brought some runner beans and purple sprouting broccoli for dinner. ED told me she'd got the makings of cottage pie, but when I got here I discovered that amounted to some onions and a defrosted pack of minced pork. I found some frozen mushrooms in the freezer which I added along with a can of haricot beans and a big handful of fresh sage from the garden, but it was pretty nasty. I'd have done better letting go of the idea of cottage pie (or pig-sty pie as Grandson and I named it) and heading off somewhere else, but too late now.

St0p Press - the aforementioned fat ginger cat just burst through the cat flap with a live mouse and dropped it on the floor - eeek!! It seems my feminism is merely intellectual when it comes to undomesticated rodents. Instinct took over - I'd woken up SIL and locked myself in the bathroom before you could even say gender stereotype. In my defence I am sleeping on an airbed on the floor in an open-plan space. Is that a defence?

SIL captured it under a glass dish and it was quite a sweet little thing once it had stopped darting erratically about. He took it outside and we all settled back down, except I tried to rewind the programme I was half watching (yeah, Big Brother), because that is one of the features of Sky plus, but pressed the wrong button and ended up with a fuzzy picture of something I saw last week AND NONE OF THE BUTTONS MAKE IT GO AWAY. How can this be? I got up off my airbed and turned it off at the wall. Fucking TV. Fucking Murdoch. He/sky has bought Series 3 of Glee, so you can't watch it unless you fork out a fortune for his crappy channels which I WILL NOT DO. I am so glad he's getting his comeuppance.

We had a good afternoon, picking GS up from school and larking about in town. He likes pushing the wheelchair as if they're in a race, and she just loves it, careering round over the cobbled pavements, shrieking with laughter. A tonic for us all, if not for the population of Xtown. GS is tons more cheerful since he's been back at school, poor little mite.

It's much better being here with them than down there worrying about them.

Grateful for: A mouse-free room to sleep in; an easy drive up here; Bloke to feed the bobcat while I'm gone; having a late night laugh with SIL - at my expense, but a laugh's a laugh; ED being my daughter.

Sweet dreams xxx

The world turned upside down

Can you see it? A foxglove in flower, in bloody September:



That's how weird the weather has been. This is one of the many second generation seedlings from the seedhead I pinched off a plant in Virginia Woolf's sister's garden. Pretty tenuous link, but one that pleases me, to be connected to the author of 'A Room of Her Own', even when it's being bloody-minded and flowering in autumn rather than spring.

It seems I've not been paying enough attention in recent days. I discover that I've agreed to meet all of my children in different places and combinations this weekend without noticing, until they started texting me today to firm up the details.

Last night I ran out of both weed and baccy - I mean, what the fuck's that all about? Basic self care, keeping the baccy supplies steady. God knows where a person has to go to get a bag of weed right now - the place is empty, in all directions. I blame the police.

Anyway, the upshot is that I'm not going to be able to see Son before he starts his law course next week, which is a big shame as he is my very darling loudmouthed gobshite and he gives his ma good hugs. Elder Daughter is very very low, so I'm off up there tomorrow. I was going to go to yoga first, but I may just get up and head straight there.

In preparation, I went to the beach and hurled stones as hard as I could at the flat rock on the left, the one just in the water:



whilst thinking of SIL, to try and discharge some of the fury I feel towards him before I go and stay in his house. My intent is to make things a bit better for ED, not worse. Fucker.

My plan had been to have a brisk energising walk along the coastal path, but I only got as far as here:



because it's still so bloody windy it wore me out in no time. Not too windy for me to roll, light and smoke a fag with my newly acquired baccy - I am a woman with skills, you know. I don't understand how it works with wind and waves. It wasn't quite as fierce today as it was when I took the pic at the top of the page, but the difference in the sea is massive.

Younger Daughter, who was coming down here at the weekend (apparently - she wants to upload her latest series of paintings, but the only place she can scan them is the local public library and as they are massive portraits of na ked men she finds this daunting) - anyway, she's coming up to ED's as well and we're all going to the singing workshop. If we were a band we could be The Citalopram Three. Or Citalopram 3. Barely one functional adult between the lot of us.

This came on the radio as I drove home, so I bellowed along, and caught the lyrics: 'I ain't nothing but tired/Man I'm just tired and bored with myself' which seemed particularly pertinent.



Grateful for: long chat with M; forgiving kids; good session with counsellor R (hence the stone-throwing); parking space right outside my door; an underlying sense that this will pass, this is chemical.

Sleep tight xx

Had a much better day after a good night's pill-induced sleep and getting the zopiclone back into my addicted system. Not the day of unalloyed joy I had somehow been expecting, but a clear absence of agony, either physical or mental. Just a bit meh. Ah well. Meh is an improvement.

Dragged myself grudgingly to yoga. Did a load of washing. Hung it out to dry. Brought it in.

Weary.

Weary of being weary.

Need something energising. Or maybe just a bit more sleep.

Googled for ideas and came across a singing workshop on Saturday, including these words in its blurb: "The people who come to my workshops are many and varied. Many are ’ non singers’ who were told to mime at school, no one has the right to take away your voice, claim it back now,it’s yours! Others want something light hearted ,and some enjoy the technique, but all are joined by the fun of singing." I was one of those, told I couldn't sing in my first ever week at school after failing to match the note from the piano. One strike and out forever. But I like singing and once did a similar workshop which resulted in my being relaxed enough to carry a tune for several months afterwards. I sing in the car - quite loudly now, after my pal Stepfie (a proper singer), suggested belting it out. It's about four miles from ED, who wants me to go up there, so it's a possibility.

Sweet dreams xx

Such a relief to know what was going on, that inadvertent drug withdrawal was causing my distress, rather than a sudden plunge into Being Psycho III. After having a little rant on here, I got into recoverer's mode and it's been OK. Not great, but just annoying not terrifying.

Step One - self compassion. Q: What advice would you give to a dearly loved friend who was having this experience? A: This won't last long, erase all obligations from your mind, just get through it. Bit of fresh air perhaps?

I got that far lying on the sofa in my (quite grubby) pyjamas. Read a bit of the paper. Smoked a fag or two.

Bloke came round, full of the joys of his latest coke-addled day of bird-watching, featuring his old junkie git of a best mate and a rare crowd of yellow wagtails. When I told my counsellor about Bloke's recent enthusiasm for ornithology he said, "Well, it may be not be the most thrilling thing to hear about, but at least that's a drug-free environment." Ha. It was. Or maybe it wasn't - maybe they're all off their faces, snorting and skinning up all day in those cosy hides tucked away from prying eyes, before going home and droning on about it for hours to some poor cow who just wants him to shut the fuck up and cook the bloody dinner like he said he would.

Yeah, still grumpy, but just realised I can go to bed now, take a zopi and with luck this will all be over when I wake up.


Grateful for: Bloke; Doc; nice man in Indian call centre, with whom I got chatting as he tried to mend my internet last night; thrillers; little Bobcat, who turned twelve this summer

Doctor, please, some more of these

Well. I am a fool. It was only this morning, after a terrible day and an even worse night, that it occurred to me to google 'coming off zopiclone' (sleeping pills which I have been taking for about three years, initially to avoid the night time ruminations and terrors). To be withdrawn over a matter of MONTHS, not four days. Side effects of doing it too quickly? Same as for coming off benzodiazepines - a long list of physical and mental responses which add up to total meltdown. Ca, c'est moi. My doc has repeatedly said that unless I feel strongly that I want to stop taking them, I'm better carrying on until I've really stabilised and I can see that she was right.

What a relief. I've had moments of despair and weepiness recently, but truly believed I had moved forward, out of the grip of depression and anxiety - anyone who had two children who wanted to end their lives would be having their moments, surely? And the moments only lasted for a short time, less than a couple of hours, until yesterday when it was like the clock turning back and nothing I could do made any difference. I was so frightened, because it was irrational. My girls are both in a much better place - I could understand a quick collapse as a result of relief, letting go of the tension, but not on and on and on.

I still feel very shaky, achy and weepy, but I'm not terrified. This will pass, it's chemical. I'm not really up for coming off the pills now, but I don't have to. I just have to get through today and tonight, then see doc tomorrow and all will be well.

Thank fuck for that.

Laters x

yadda yadda; moan moan

Bad day so far. Emerged from one of those dreams where everyone despises me and I'm shut out of everything, peering in watching all the love and laughter but not allowed too close. Horrible.

Not helped by the fuck up with this diary and feeling out of touch with everyone. Or having written a long entry last night about the latest pile of poo (Housing Benefit being revoked by higher power than friendly girl, now I need to Explain Myself and all my financial decisions since the year dot) and then losing it before I'd posted.

All my teaching pals are back at work and back into the grind of spending one day of the weekend marking and planning, the other catching up with domesticity. Friends slide into the background, down the to-do list. I did this too when I was teaching - there are only so many hours in a week, but now I can only have a few hours here and there till half term and it hurts.

The situation is not helped by the fact that I ran out of sleeping pills (to which I have become addicted), having given them to Younger Daughter (YD) on too many occasions this last month. I realised earlier in the week that I wasn't going to have enough to get me through to my next GP appt this Monday, and rather than do the sensible thing - make an earlier appt - I tried to wean myself off them by taking half a tab for several nights then none last night. At four in the morning, still awake, I took a Valium, and now here I am, shaky, weepy, achy - all the usual suspects, yawn, bored of this, honestly enough already.

I should be feeling - oh god, can't believe I wrote 'should' about feelings - don't I know better than that? Obviously not. OK, I wish I was feeling more positive, as YD has had a few very helpful meetings with support staff at her uni and is now very optimistic about returning to her course this term. She has been offered a place in halls, usually reserved for first years, which is a great solution to several of the potential problems she may face as a returning student with mental health problems. Much better than her commuting from here.

ED has got a friend round and they are planning on going for a walk across the fields in the wheelchair. She is taking initiative. This is a good thing. Why aren't I feeling relieved and pleased that my girls are moving out of the dark place? I am, but it's buried under a huge mountain of despair.

Some of it is about politics, I expect. The bollocks that is being talked by people who should know better is enough on its own to crush the spirit of any right-thinking socialist.

Sorry this is yet another in a long, long line of miserable entries.

Grateful for: Andrew sorting out the problems with my page while I've been writing; feeling a bit less weighed down for having a rant; my physical health which improves all the time; colder weather = more windows closed = no neighbouring cats coming in and pissing in the recycling; tomorrow is another day.

Happy weekend xxx

Getting a grip

Getting a grip on it

The last two days have been very productive, mainly about moving Elder Daughter's situation forward. She asked me to be her advocate/spokesperson, but I hadn't really realised how little she's able to accomplish for herself these days due to 'brain fog'. In her case this is due to the MS but I'm no stranger to lack of cognitive capacity myself so I know where she's coming from with it.

Yesterday I woke up and had the same telephone conversation with her that I seem to have had again and again and again. I said the things I've said so many times before - yes, she is imprisoned at the moment, she's right, it's awful, terrible.

But.

It can be transformed with a series of little steps, some of which I can do, some of which she must do. But her ability to do anything at all diminishes with every whole day she doesn't spend in my company and it's been a while (since I decided that SIL may have his own side of the story but I don't give a fuck, I can't look at him without wanting to do any one of a number of things which would only make the situation worse. And I haven't had the wherewithal to summon up the energy required to play nice with him when it is so far from how I want to play).

Yesterday morning I put the phone down and had a real rock bottom moment. Quite a long moment, but hey ho, when you hit the bottom you bounce back and (as I may not have mentioned for a while), I am a senior member of the Bounce Back Brigade and that was how it went.

The key problem seemed to be that I don't actually have MS and ED still doesn't know anyone else who has it - I can say all I like that she will have an active life full of love and laughter, but, what do I know? So. A while ago we'd heard about a closed facebook page/group/whatever for women with MS and ED had tried to join it. What happened to that? I found the page and wrote to the administrator who replied at once, saying she'd check it out and did I know there was a closed page for family/carers? I didn't then, but here I am now, a mere 24 hours later, embraced into a new community, already with a date to go to the British Museum with ED, grandson, a group of MSers and their kids. Phew. Thank fuck for the internet and the much-maligned FB. It originated here and has only been running for six months or so, but I've already met a writer living in CA. The bit that clicked with ED at once was the acronym CUTO, which stands for Chin up, Tits Out. Brilliant.

As well as that I
1) phoned grandson's school and spoke to the student support woman about his home circumstances.
2) phoned the MS Therapy Centre (I'm not sure when I did this - maybe I wrote about it already) and they phoned ED and arranged an appt for a couple of weeks time.
3) spent an evening with M, who turned up for a home cooked dinner, was palmed off with a mediocre take away and gave me some shit hot advice based on his years of working in the NHS. Can't remember it as I was very stoned, but it was very motivational.
4) discovered the existence of 'dial-a-ride' for those who can't use public transport and arranged for them to send her an info pack
5) spoke to her GP about her isolation and mental deterioration and tendency to tell people she's fine because she's so lifted by the very sight of someone coming to her door. The GP is going to visit. I spoke to ED about telling the bloody truth, like she does to me, not putting a brave face on it, but I hope to have the opportunity to reinforce that immediately before the visit.

In amongst all that I've had a series of emails from lovely girl at H0us1ng ben3fit. She put me right to the top of the heap so rent backdated to 1st Aug will be paid to me on Monday. Not for all of it, as I'm in surplus bedrooms, but still a good chunk of dosh. Fucking A, as the youth used to say, once long ago. She also told me that I'm entitled to double rent for a few weeks while moving from one place to another as it's impossible to co-ordinate tenancy dates in a landlord's letting market. This is news to me - they don't publicise that kind of thing, so I'm relieved and grateful to hear it.

Flats keep coming through on the mailing list that are almost perfect, which is very reassuring and encourages me to continue to build up my energy reserves and wait a while for the absolute best one. Today there was a flat with a really big hallway, great lounge, good size bedroom, fireplaces, sea view (sea view!!), in a listed Regency building, but it was on the top floor (3rd UK, 4th US). That's no good for ED to visit, so it's a no, but where there's a place that size upstairs, there's one downstairs. That had a bigger area than this house, even losing a bedroom. It's just about timing.

Fifty plus yoga today. Honestly, they all looked so young I had to check I had the right class, fuckers. Then I remembered that I'm edging up to sixty, so I may have been the oldest. But I was comparatively flexible - the teacher pushed me to try things without a strap or a block and I could do them. I can hold my toes with my legs straight again already, after just a couple of lessons. Muscle memory. Brilliant.

Grateful for; a sense of progress being made, of walls being pushed open; the internet; HB girl, what a blessing to have met her; a fab bunch of golden sunflowers that have lasted for ages; my kindle - have I said how much I'm liking that? I fear the implications for authors and publishers, but I haven't considered it fully, so who knows...

Living in the land of the common people

I did another yoga class today and planned to take some fabbo pics to share here the joys of the green and golden hills, the light sparkling on the sea in the distance.
The sea's that way, somewhere:

There's a better view inland:

but not much. It's weird when the clouds are low like that and all the sounds are muffled - the familiar is suddenly in disguise, like stepping into a dream landscape.
The yoga class was hard. The Tuesday teacher takes a very detailed approach - we always start with whole minutes concentrating on how our feet are placed on the floor, for example. This isn't my favourite way of yoga, though she's a walking testimonial to its benefits, limber as fuck and glowing with health. I can do standing (mountain) when I'm balanced and grounded, but when we started on very slow warrior, about halfway through the class, I started to get very dizzy and had to do lying down things till they finished and never really had any more strength after that. I suppose I'm being silly, doing two classes in three days, but surely if I can lug camping gear across fields for hours on end or push an adult in a wheelchair up hill and down dale, then I ought to be able to do five minutes of warrior without keeling over. Whatever. I've done fuck all since I got back and I've booked yoga for over 50s for Thursday as well as the Friday morning class with an hour of qi gung to follow. I feel steady in my head (I do, honest!) and now want my body to catch up.
Meanwhile, writing that down reminds me that the camping gear is still all over the back room, apart from the tents, which I haven't managed to dry out enough to put away since the festival and are currently bundled up in the shed. The big new tent of my dreams leaked and ended up being the tent of great disappointment, as opposed to dear old tent, whose poles I thought I'd lost, but then found again after I'd bought the other one, so lent to M and co, who were dry and snug through all the downpours. We were OK in the sleeping bit of new tent, but all our stuff got wet the first night and we had a permanent lake in one corner. Sewn in ground-sheets aren't much cop when all the water on the roof comes in every time you open the flap to get out. I'm going back to old tent. Daughter and grandson can either sleep in the new one or get their own.
In other news, a seed has germinated in the plug-hole of my sink in the bathroom. It appeared overnight and has managed to withstand two days of me washing my hands and cleaning my teeth on/over/past it. So far it just has those first two bits that look like leaves but aren't, so I can't tell what it's going to be yet. I find myself thrilled and intrigued by this seedling, quite unable to pull it out, though I'll have to, I guess, at some point. My suspicion is that it's a buddleia , as you see them growing out of cracks in walls right up in the air, like three storeys up. Or a tomato - maybe that's more likely, from a seed caught in my teeth that I didn't notice - I eat shit-loads of tomatoes.
My new art class starts next week, hurrah. I don't know what materials I have left, since younger daughter arrived here empty-handed weeks and weeks ago and launched into a marathon obsession project, painting endless portraits of two fictional characters she'd created. It's all in the back room, under the camping gear. And under that is my table, on which I aspire to eat my meals. By the weekend - there, I've set a deadline. Go me, again.
Grateful for: a long chat with D from Glasto; a nice email from yesterday's HB woman, including some helpful suggestions based on her recent experience of finding herself an affordable flat in this expensive city; not being hassled; a roof over my head; the sandwich I am about to make and take upstairs to eat in bed.
Sweet dreams xx

Our house, in the middle of our street

I'm writing in the ad breaks between Celebrity Big Brother, which I have succumbed to yet again.

H0using B3nefit interview today, which got me in a right state of agitation. I'm entitled to have a proportion of my rent paid again, due to still being unemployed, and having bolted through that inheritance at an astounding rate. But the whole housing situation does my head in as there doesn't appear to be a solution I can bear, yet I can't go on doing nothing forever or I might indeed find myself old, skint and living in a shit-hole - my biggest fear. OK, my second biggest fear, the first being all the effort/stress/decision-making/risk involved in moving from here to somewhere else. Sigh.

I'm going to have to do one room at a time, chucking out everything that is neither beautiful nor useful, whittling stuff down. Then grit my teeth and go for it...

----------------------------------------

Well, I must have drifted off there for lo, it is now 1.54 am.

After all the mental trauma, the interview was great. The woman I saw was such a sweetie, full of advice, reassurance and chat to the extent that we had a hug at the end of it, which seemed entirely appropriate at the time, if not so much now. I must say, I've always been lucky with the people I run up against, but we'll see how this goes.  As a mark of faith in my continuing financial well-being I bought three shirts for the price of two in Gap, and that's now the end of my time as a big spender. Bills, food, baccy, weed and books. Mas nada.

It's been blowing up a storm today. I've been hoping to get a few more swims in before the night temperature starts bringing the sea temp down, but this is not inviting:

<img src="http://i51.photobucket.com/albums/f361/annanotbob/DSC06197.jpg" width = 400 >

Grateful for: Living high on a hill when the rain is fierce; return of optimism after a morning of dread; peace and quiet (apart from the wind whistling and groaning and the cat snoring); nothing I HAVE to do tomorrow; friends both near and far

Sleep well

xxx