Why did I start this blog? It was created in July 2011 to inform people of Anne’s condition and save me saying the same thing over and over again on the telephone each night.
Time marches on as this photograph taken last week in Glasgow suggests.
In fact, the clock was not working: perhaps time really does stand still on occasions! For me, a lot has happened since my first post some ten months ago: Anne has died and I now live in Birmingham. My life has changed in many ways: it is still changing and may continue to do for some time to come.
The blog has been an important tool for me, as I came to terms with Anne’s decline and death. It has fulfilled the purposes for which Anne and I created it: none of us need a nightly – latterly thrice-weekly – monologue about my progress through bereavement. There is a limit to the amount even I can write about oneself without it becoming more than just a little repetitive, perhaps even boring.
I shall not leave you without information, but there are better ways to communicate this. During the next week or so I propose to upgrade and update a web site I currently own. This will allow me more easily to show what I am doing and invite people to comment or to support me. The site is likely to include a blog, to seek contributions, and to be updated regularly. Hopefully, it will become a far more diverse site and enable communication with a broader audience.
Once the new site is ready, I shall inform everyone of how to find it and include a live link.
The posts on this current site I intend to leave where they are for a few months, before I eventually archive them to save space. I have no intention of destroying the blog.
Thank-you to everyone who has read the blog and who has made it the vehicle by which they have been able to help Anne or myself. Anne and I appreciated people’s comments about the site, almost all of which were supportive.
This will be a very short blog to explain just a little of the week’s happenings, for they have been both many and varied.
Tuesday morning led swiftly to Tuesday afternoon and to Susan’s coming to help me with the flat. During the afternoon I received a phone call from Amy to tell me Hepplewhite would be playing in a competition that evening – for the performance of music by a female composer. A string quartet was highly likely to win the competition: I was welcome to come but was not to expect a Hepplewhite win.
The competition was interesting: four very different groups playing very different music. Despite Amy’s prediction Hepplewhite won: three tired musicians were elated.
Amy, her mother, Tim and I returned to the flat to enjoy cheese, wine, tea and talking among ourselves. We were interrupted by a small visitor – a mouse walking quietly but purposefully across the kitchen floor. I decided there and then to name him – Maurice Mouse! He has not been seen again, but I now know someone is sharing the flat with me.
Wednesday morning was a total come down after the previous evening: cold rain and wind swept across Birmingham as I lost my umbrella but caught my train to Burton. Brian and I spent a useful two hours sorting out details about Anne’s estate before I returned to the flat, set the bread-maker to produce another loaf of bread, and made a start on a large episode of the ironing.
Dave and Sarah, “alias Mole and Duck”, joined me during the evening. They were on their way between Leeds and Cornwall, taking the last of their possessions to Kate and Ted’s prior to the start of their year-long trip round the world.
Thursday was showery, but we missed most of the rain. Dave, Sarah and I walked around Birmingham and then on to the Jewellery Quarter. While they enjoyed part of the heritage trail, I spent time with Robin and Barbara. I received a shock: what I thought was a brass curtain ring, found in my mother’s button box, turned out to be a twenty-two caret gold wedding ring!
For the evening we found beer and then beef burgers – not my normal fare but a good evening with excellent company. While the rain had held off for one day, it could not last. Friday morning saw both Dave and I get very wet on our quick trip to Jessop’s to find an additional battery for Dave’s camera.
This evening I have been to hear Kevin play the Mozart piano concerto no 23 with its beautiful slow movement. This was followed by Hepplewhite playing the Martinu concertino for for piano trio and string orchestra.
I think I may be beginning to appreciate modern music – only a few years ago this piece would have frightened me away!
All is packed for tomorrow’s trip to Helensburgh. I shall return on Wednesday with Joy, and hopefully with joy. (I promise I shall make that pun only once!)
(Blogging appears to be taking a back number: there are more things happening in my life and I am happier with what is happening to me. Of course there have been times I have felt low, there are things it is difficult to discuss even with close friends. The change is that I am beginning to take charge of my future: I have discovered that I am allowed both to enjoy what is happening around me and also to seek happiness. Here’s to a little hedonism and to a good few days away.)
Thank-you to everyone who has been to see me, or who has spent time with me over the past few days.
Thank-you to everyone who has texted, phoned or emailed me.
Congratulations to Elizabeth and David on the birth of Eleanor, their first child.
An unusual day – it is easy to say I have taken a step backwards as well as two steps forwards: I suspect all three steps have been forwards although one was much more painful than the other two.
I am not very good at leaving my bed: this is my indulgence and I am sticking with it for the time being. Still, I am dressed and ready for action by 09.00. The first task is to sort out a repeat prescription on-line – much easier than I expect. The software works and accepts both my log-in and password.
Next to phone Warwickshire County Cricket Club, from whom I have not received my this-year’s membership pack. I find a suitable phone number and am informed a new card will be available for me to collect tomorrow. (The club almost certainly did send out the original membership pack, but it has probably gone to one of the other Burton Old Roads!)
Time to go to Snow Hill station. I ought to walk, but find a bus arriving at the stop at the same time I walk past it. The train to Solihull is on time, which means I am early for my appointment. My iPhone shows me the quickest walking route from the station to the venue: all would have been well had I not input the wrong house number into my address book! In the end I have to ring AM, who tells me the correct house number and is waiting for me on my arrival.
The meeting goes well: I find no difficulty working with AM and we make some progress. She gives me homework to do before our next meeting in around a fortnight’s time. By the time I leave, my mind is very tired: I am glad to retrace my steps to the station on a dry day. It is even quite warm providing one is out of the wind. A fast train from London takes me back to Moor Street from where I walk to New Street in order to purchase tickets for my Scotland trip at the weekend.
Home to the flat and to some much needed lunch – bacon and red pepper in a cream sauce with pasta. This concoction of my own design is quick to make and tastes quite good. Were I in less of a hurry, or were someone here to share it, I should use more vegetables and make it a whole lot more interesting. Today my simple version suffices and is washed down with a cup of coffee.
Daniel (DMR Decs) rings and brings Claire and the children up to the flat to see me and to present me with a pepper plant. This visit causes a few biscuit crumbs to be added to the lounge floor but provides my first meeting with lovely two-year old twin boys, Ethan and Joshua. When they are gone I fall asleep for half an hour!
Time for me to attend the launch of the Symphony Hall and Town Hall 2012-13 International concert series. I join Tim, Andrew and Martin after collecting my brochure from the table. V joins us as we stand discussing the concerts over a drink of wine. After some half an hour, we are ushered into stalls seats where we hear a presentation about the International 2013 Season from Lyndon Jenkins and Paul Keen. V has to leave us as she is on call: Andrew, Martin, Timothy and I enjoy canapés and more drinks. I know I am very tired and so stick to orange juice. We talk for an hour or so and I decide to buy a subscription package for myself and additional seats for the concerts at which I should like someone to join me.
By 21.00 I am walking back to the flat alone. I ring Jane in Cambridge and then call Joy to tell her what time I shall arrive in Helensburgh on Saturday. Then it is time to blog.
(It is St George’s Day. I remember a socialist call to action based on the idea of a new St George.
This song is strangely apt as I feel it is time for action – to do something positive and to stop beating myself up for a situation which is neither my fault nor of my making. This-morning’s meeting was not easy: being totally frank about one’s own feelings is stressful and often creates an emotional “down” afterwards.
This-evening’s launch of the International series was always one of Anne’s favourite events in the musical year. Last year she really enjoyed it: Anne could manage the canapés without problem whereas a large meal was causing her problems – only later were we to understand why. Returning over last year’s event in my memory made the evening very hard – I should have preferred for brochure and booking form to have been sent by post. But it was vital I attended, vital I felt the emotional pull and grieved for Anne’s absence. With friends’ help I got through: my subsequent phone call to Jane helped me rearrange the pieces in my brain.
There remain dragons to be slain: from their lair deep within my mind they emerge intent on extinguishing my new life with grief and fear. Not too fleet of foot, they can be left behind if I run away and immerse myself in other tasks. Sooner or later they must be met with and conquered. Let me not take this illusion too far: I do not imagine myself as St George, nor do I attempt to effect a maiden’s release from a dragon’s power. I have begun to win my battles but need not see myself immersed in a war. Despite a difficult day, I am no longer running away from myself. Here’s to St George and to a merry England!)
Thank-you to AM for her help this morning.
Thank-you to Tim, Martin and Andrew for keeping me going this evening and to V for joining me for part of the time.
Thank-you also to those who have commented, phoned, texted or emailed.
Some corners are turned easily: others are longer and require more careful navigation. To-day I have not left the flat: I have seen no-one and spoken only to one person on the phone. This has been a good test and one which I have passed with only one short difficulty.
Friday morning starts with a trip to Balsall Heath Road. I collect bread and milk to put into Pauline’s fridge and take the number 8 bus to the stop beyond Pershore Road. I manage the burglar alarm without problem and find room in Pauline’s fridge. The walk back up to Pershore Road and the wait for a 47 bus into town is a real stroll down memory lane: for twelve and a half years this was my route into town.
In New Street Station I purchase a further four weeks’ bus and train pass including the add-on to Lichfield. Perhaps this will be the last time I need the add-on. Next to the newest jewel in Birmingham’s crown – a Waitrose store has opened beside Snow Hill station. This shop is small by the firm’s standards, but is filled – packed from floor to ceiling – with all the good things I used to find in the Lichfield shop.
Within fifteen minutes I have found all I need for this evening’s meal. The bus stop is just across the road so I do not have far to carry my burden. Back in the house I put food away and have a little lunch before setting up the bread-maker to make a seeded loaf. It is an easy job, but it does need to be done according to the recipe!
I re-establish myself on Twitter. You can tweet me using @OsborneSJ I do not know how useful I shall find it, but I will give it another chance. Do you tweet? If so, please let me know how useful you find it.
And so to cook. Beef bourguignon is an old favourite and goes into the slow cooker. There is plenty of red wine to make its sauce and the shallots look good. I leave them in boiling water for five minutes before peeling them – it makes the task much easier. A jacket potato and some broccoli are all the additional vegetables this main-course will need. The sweet course is something of a cheat – a ready made meringue nest surrounded with fresh raspberries and topped with whipped cream on which four more raspberries are seated.
For the starter I sauté some some celery and pepper cut up very small. I then make a white roux flavoured with English mustard. Into this sauce I put the vegetables where they finish cooking. Two rings of pepper are boiled and kept warm: into these I spoon the vegetables in their sauce. The top of this creation is a dozen tiny prawns sautéed with a little pepper and spices - a veritable Heath Robinson dish!!!
Victoria enjoys all three course. We are both too full to attack the fresh loaf or the cheeses I have ready in the fridge. By the time Victoria leaves me, around 21.30, I am tired and fall asleep in the chair. Far too tired to blog, I take myself to bed and enjoy a good sleep.
Saturday morning dawns bright and I get up quite early. Anthea phones me – she has read my text message from the previous evening. We talk for most of an hour while each of us makes our morning drinks single-handed! But what shall I have for breakfast? The most obvious thing is the remnant of last night’s whipped cream: this I pour over fresh grapes for a most unusual but rather pleasant repast.
Julia and Graeme arrive: they drive a Saab 95, the same model Anne and I had enjoyed long time ago. Unlike our Saab, whose floor rusted so that one’s feet got soaked in wet weather, this vehicle remains in wonderful condition. We drive to Streethay where we spend an hour and a half collecting things from the kitchen: these will help Amy when she moves to her new house. The house is still full of items and memories, both of which are best faced with other people present.
It is raining when we leave. We return to Birmingham and park the car in Symphony Court while we walk across to Ju-Ju’s for lunch. We all choose the cod and chips, which are beautifully presented and also taste wonderful – some things never change.
Walking back to the flat – again it is raining – we collect from the car the few things I have brought from the Streethay kitchen for my use: I had really missed my ladle and my long cheeseboard. Graeme and Julia leave me and I have a quiet hour before getting myself ready for the evening’s concert.
I meet V outside the central library and together we go to Adrian Boult Hall to hear a student performance, “Romantic Classics in aid of Cancer Research”. Roma Loukes, a young soprano, performs a piece in Chinese “Stand together in the same storm-tossed boat”. This is followed by Tchaikovsky’s piano concerto No 1 with Liang Shan as soloist. Tim has joined us – he knows Liang well. The orchestra is good, although there are a few weaknesses, and the concerto’s second movement is begun far too slowly for anyone’s comfort, but as a whole the performance works and Liang really does sound good in the final allegro.
After the interval we hear both orchestra and conductor feel more at home with the Dvorak symphony No 8. This is one of my favourite Dvorak pieces, although as yet I know nothing of his early symphonies or his chamber music. The final movement’s bright climax is effective and the few of us, under a hundred have turned up, strive to make loud applause!
V has enjoyed the evening. I persuade her to come and look at the flat, which she does albeit with some reticence. We sit for half an hour or so, but V will neither eat nor drink and is anxious to be shown the way to Five Ways station. I enjoy the walk and stand on the platform with V until her train arrives. My walk back to the flat is by way of Broad Street’s busy side. The Saturday night revellers are happy and do not notice me: I am warm, moving quickly under a warm coat: they stand around wearing no coats and only flimsy clothes!
Back in the flat I find a glass of wine – the bottle is open from the previous evening. I send a text and receive a phone call. By 01.00 I am fast asleep in my bed and hear nothing until 07.00.
There is nothing whatsoever in to-day’s diary, so I make no attempt to leave the bed until 09.00. Having put a good television in the room, I use it it to watch the start of the London Marathon before using the bathroom and making a pot of tea.
There is little sense in making a loaf of bread and then not eating it. I cut two slices and toast them: though I say it myself, the taste s wonderful. Why buy a loaf of bread when it takes such little effort to persuade the bread-maker to produce one? I eat breakfast and then allow myself to enjoy the television: when there is nothing I wish to view, Radio 3 takes over the surprisingly easy task of entertaining me.
Prawns and eggs both need using – a prawn omelet makes a quick and easy lunch, which I follow with an apple and a banana. Who cares if my diet is odd, there is no one with whom to share my meals.
Hetti phones. She and Amy have left Prussia Cove after a really useful ten days of master classes and coaching sessions. Hetti has had no reception on her mobile phone while at the house and Amy has only been able to get sufficient signal to make phone calls when in one particular room. But they both sound happy: I am extremely pleased for them and hope Hepplewhite will be even more successful.
There is a job to be done: the study needs to be tidied so it can be used as a bedroom on Wednesday and Thursdeay nights. I bring various piles and boxes out onto the table in the main room and sort into piles. There is plenty to discard and a number of items which should be elsewhere in the flat. I need more room in the bedroom.
Currently, I share my bed with four of Anne’s teddy-bears and a cuddly lion. There is a large basket full of smaller bears on a chest of drawers. This has to go: one by one I put the cuddles, part of Anne’s collection, into a large plastic bag. Then I find myself overcome – I am pushing away what was a special part of Anne. Paper tissues, a cup of coffee and stern self-admonishment are required before the process is complete. Just what I shall do with the large bag’s contents I do not know – that can wait for another day.
There is plenty more to be cleared and there is plenty on the television to keep me informed, educated and entertained. ON Friday,Victoria had brought a carton of New Covent Garden Soup - Cheddar cheese and piccalilli. I heat this and enjoy it along with the crust from my loaf. There are a few grapes still to finish and there is always a little chocolate!
With jobs finished I watch the news channel and “follow” a few interesting people on Twitter. Then it is time to blog.
(What do I make of my weekend? It has been good. I have reminded myself I can still put together a three course meal – only for two on Friday, but I made enough for four and have put plenty of the beef dish in the freezer.
Making new friends is never difficult for me, but is now rather different. Since marrying Anne in 1978 we had made and developed friendships with many new people – almost always together. Now I have to do this alone and to think carefully about how my new friends see me. This is a good test for someone who believes he has turned at least one corner.
I must realise that not everything will go right, either with the new relationships I make or with my treatment of the items left here in the flat Many of Anne’s “old friends” may have to go: I am not averse to teddy-bears but cannot live in a teddy-bear mausoleum however much I cherish Anne’s memory.
Streethay will no doubt bring more hard decisions, but there will be little time to visit it this week. Hopefully, I shall maintain my progress and continue this learning curve: perhaps life is rally one long corner!)
Thank-you to Victoria for eating with me on Friday – it was good to cook for someone again.
Thank-you to Graeme and Julia for all their help on Saturday.
Thank-you to V for coming to Saturday’s student concert with me.
Thank-you to everyone who has phoned, texted, emailed or tweeted me.
“What are you?” The question really means: “What do you do for a living?” Society’s value of any human being tends to be based upon what they “do” as opposed to what they “are”. After to-day, I would have a very low rating – I have, like W S Gilbert’s House of Peers, done “nothing in particular but done it rather well.” Of far more importance, I have enjoyed the day.
The alarm wakes me, but only briefly. Next, I realise the radio has turned itself off – it must be almost 09.00. Almost guiltily I leave my flea-pit and find the bathroom before donning a leisure suit. I live all day in this same attire and leave the flat only to put rubbish in the bin.
Neither depressed nor indolent, I spend the day talking to a number of people and sorting out a few little jobs. My immediate task is to re-establish myself on Twitter – I have let it lapse while Anne was ill. I also leave message with a number of people with whom I wish to talk. For practical work, there is washing to put away and part of my wardrobe to tidy. While in the bedroom I find the camcorder, not used since Anne took footage of trains on the West Somerset Railway over a year ago, and set about charging its batteries.
The day has but one failure. A picture stands on the study floor awaiting a new home on a suitable wall. One hunt for a hammer and three bent picture pins later, the picture is now standing on the hall floor. In desperation I seek Daniel’s advice: he is coming to SC and will be glad to bring a larger hammer with which to aid my endeavours.
It is time for lunch – I have totally forgotten about breakfast. There is a pizza in the freezer and this serves me well. It is followed by a banana and an apple. Then to a laborious but highly necessary task: twenty-seven concerts booked yesterday, each of which need to be entered into the diary. First, a lady from CBSO and then Daniel break up this activity for me. Daniel is soon able to put pins into the wall and hangs the pictures: the lady from the CBSO will send me the paperwork I seek.
There is cricket on the television, but there is also a meal to plan for tomorrow. I hunt through the internet’s offering of beef bourguignon recipes – they range from the ultra simple to the highly sophisticated. I find a suitable looking recipe and print it out on the computer in the study. All the recipes will make sufficient for four people – an excellent idea providing I clear some room. There is a large tupperware box containing what looks like a meal for one: it is unmarked but I leave it on the side to thaw.
My first attempt to improve the state of the study is to put all post onto the trolley and to wheel it into the dining room. This leaves just three boxes and some books to be tidied before the room is fit to have the bed made up.
May 12, my birthday, will fall on a Saturday. It represents a not-to-be-missed opportunity for a Chinese banquet. I begin a list of friends who might enjoy this and who are likely to be available in Brindleyplace on that evening.
The contents of the Tupperware box begins to thaw: the microwave’s “Chaos Defrost” button expedites this task considerably. Tom phones me while defrosting continues. After we finish our conversation I tip the box’e contents – tender beef in gravy – into a saucepan. While it heats thoroughly I put a potato into the microwave, another of whose clever programmes ensures it is cooked to a nicety.
When I have finished my meal and watched a few minutes’ television the phone calls begin. When the first is finished I make a start on sorting out the trolley’s contents. Only a quarter hour into this job and I have another caller with whom to talk. This is wonderful – I am kept such good company by my friends even from afar. Who really cares if the trolley is not cleared yet.
But the trolley’s contents are across the table and so I must complete this task before looking at Facebook and then writing my evening’s post.
(Not much of a story to tell to-day – have not even had a walk. The Old Testament instructed that a Sabbath day be kept: for one whole day in every seven no work is to be done. I cannot say I have done no work, but I have had a totally different day from my recent hectic activities. This, I know, has been rather good for me.
For much of the last few months I have worried about staying still. If I were not active I would be sat alone, prone to becoming morose or even grief-stricken. Worse still, I should be convinced that inactivity would lead to sadness: plan to do something so as to be happy Apart from Daniel’s brief visit, to-day I have seen no one. Yet I do not feel depressed or down-hearted; I even feel rather pleased with myself. The flat looks better for my endeavours and I feel better for a very different day. Perhaps this should confirm to me that I have turned a corner. The new vista is of Stephen now able to look at himself alone without so much trepidation: he need no longer rush headlong into his new life. There will be many more corners to turn and further new vistas to behold!)
Thank-you to everyone who has phoned, texted or emailed.
Certain days are more appropriate for specific jobs. Who wants to sort out a mega pile of ironing when the sun is shining? It is all done and awaits being put away in the bedroom – I feel better but there is more work to be done.
Despite gong to bed rather earlier than usual I have slept and dozed until after 09.00 this morning. I feel better for a long rest and make coffee before going to the computer and the telephone, while the rain falls outside on a grey day.
Much of the morning is spent talking with Joy, Pam and J from Solihull. I arrange to arrive in Helensburgh some time in the afternoon a week on Saturday. Joy will come back with me on the train on the Wednesday before continuing on to Kent.
I leave messages for CBSO subscriptions to ring me and then set about some lunch. A simple meal of soup, cheese and biscuits and fruit will suffice as I am to eat later in the day. Then it is time to face the saga: there is a limit to how long any man can put of The Ironing, and that limit I have stretched more than somewhat. Outside it is still raining – it appears to have been raining since I awoke.
Four pairs of trousers, ten shirts, two tablecloths, tea towels and underwear keep me busy for most of the afternoon. I am interrupted – it is good to be interrupted on occasions.
My interruptor is a lady from the CBSO with whom I sort out my changed subscription requirements for next season’s concerts. When I try to pay for my new subscription, this polite lady cannot accept my payment – I have to contact the Symphony Hall box office in an hour’s time by when their computer should have received my details: “It’s the new system,” I am politely told. Quite unused to people refusing my payment, especially when their organisation is short of money, I iron for a further hour and then do even as I am bidden.
Jane M arrives by 18.20 and we scurry through the rain to seek supper. Pizza Express looks full: the crowd of people around the door dissuades us from trying to gain entry. Instead, we use a self-service cafe in the ICC. The food is not bad, but is served on cold plates. I do not enjoy the meal: I find carrying a tray of food across a crowded room to a table somewhat stressful, especially when I have to negotiate my way around people’s umbrella’s and sticks.
Tonight’s concert is excellent. Michael Seal conducts the CBSO who begin with Beethoven’s Fidelio Overture. This is followed by his Violin Concerto with Tasmin Little as soloist. I am never sure whether the concerto’s first movement is too long for an audience’s comfort: this evening I could wish it were just a little shorter. The larghetto slow movement is wonderful and the final rondo unforgettable.
(Sorry – I can’t find a copy of Tasmin playing this on You Tube.) Beethoven had a genius for memorable tunes as well as incredible harmonies.
Jane and I walk back to Symphony Court, where her car is parked. As we stand to say good-night the rain commences again: try as it might, it has not dampened my day and better is to come.
A message on my answer phone tells me that Hepplewhite has been chosen to play in the showcase concert on Friday evening towards the end of the International Musicians’ Seminar at Prussia Cove. Amy is clearly pleased with the trio’s success and I look to see if there is some way I can get to Cornwall to hear and support them. Without a car, it is nearly impossible: unable to be certain of getting back to Penzance for the 21.35 sleeper, I abandon the idea. But I am delighted for the Hepplewhite piano trio: even in high-class company they are distinguishing themselves.
I listen to “A Book at Bedtime“. We used to do that in the dormitory at school, so long ago. Then it is time to blog: once again I shall try to be in bed not long after mid-night.
(The study is still not cleared. I have made a number of arrangements and sorted out my concert tickets. Some admin jobs have been done and – thank goodness – one of my longest stints of The Ironing is complete.
I am beginning to feel better about being alone, for I had no company until Jane M arrived after 18.00. When I was a child at school we sang a song one of whose lines ran “But what can’t be cured must with patience be endured.” The Ironing, the rain, the living alone, the paperwork is all there to try my endurance. To-day, after a slow start, my determination to succeed has become inextinguishable: to-night I feel successful, and just a little more happy about my future. Tomorrow, I must continue this so as to make it stick! Success breeds success: I should like to acquire this habit.)
Thank-you to Joy and Pam who talked with me and helped make arrangements.
Thank-you to Jane M for joining me at the concert.
Thank-you to Amy for letting me know about Hepplewhite’s success.
This will be another short blog. I have promised myself to be in bed by midnight, the first time this year! I am feeling good but rather tired.
Getting up late this morning I find a few small jobs to do around the flat before going across to the Conservatoire to hear Magdalena Wajdzik’s “Performance Platform” recital. This forms one of the last elements in her course and she must be rather nervous, but it does not show. The programme is awesome and fiendishly difficult:
At the end Magdalena receives loud and prolonged applause, even from those who are to mark her work. I shop quickly and make a quick lunch so that I am ready by the time Susan arrives at 13.00 We sort out various things and then I leave her to get on with the job while I go to have a coffee with V.
Coffee and a long talk: music, concerts, Russia, work, Birmingham and next Saturday’s concert keep us going for almost an hour and a half. I return to the flat and find Susan still working hard. There are texts and emails to write. Before Susan leaves, I show her some of my photographs of Anne – I can do that now without getting upset!
After Susan leaves me I eat fruit and chocolate and find coffee to drink. There is rain in the cricket, so I watch a programme about armies’ dependence on logistics followed by a tribute to George Formby.
I prefer Radio 3′s late night programme to the news. Rachel phones me and we tai for over an hour. Jane texts me – I return a text assuring her I am good and that I shall talk with her tomorrow. Then I find a text from Amy: Hepplewhite is enjoying Prussia Cove and getting a lot out of the teaching there.
(Now this is me feeling good. Tomorrow will include a lot of work and a concert. I don’t really mind – I begin to feel ready to deal with life again, but know I should take things reasonably slowly.)
Thank-you to Susan for helping me in the flat.
Than-you to V and to Rachael for good company and conversation.
Thank-you to everyone who has emailed me or who has left a message on the blog.
