How am I?
I have some very nice days – Saturday and Sunday – and then yesterday I was looking forward to being on my own for the day – to write (Hah!) or to write Christmas cards (a smaller hah! – I don’t feel like writing my usual letters but find that “My mother just died” is a trump card and saves you from having to say anything else – apart from “will write later”) also to make Christmas lists and then despair that I don’t feel like shopping.
I cycled to Bakewell market for fruit and veg and then did some editing of the current book (which will be the most edited in existence as I can’t actually write anything new) – no, no, I tell a lie – I inserted one new line about the hated next door neighbour – Fran says that she only came to visit her after Fran’s aunt died, because she was “attracted by the scent of death.” (Don't worry, dear readers, the book is not about death - this was an incidental line of dialogue and merely inserted to show how Fran feels about said next door neighbour.)
Then I went back to bed at 11 a.m. and stayed there drinking Earl Grey tea and reading my grandfather’s letters from a hundred years ago, which I hope to use in the aforementioned book.
Then I had an appointment with the optician, who asked me – family history wise - if my Ma was still alive and then asked me if I could read the bottom line of letters and I couldn’t because I was silently crying. She was very very sweet and handed me two tissues and said “It’s horrible, isn’t it?” and I said “I just can’t get used to her not being here,” and she said she used to go in M and S and pick up things for her mother and then remember her mother was dead.
The bright spots of the day were Dave coming home; and then later talking to my son on Google-video-mail (is that what it's called?)
Today I am going to attempt to shop with my daughter and my delightful grandson (see below.)
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