Wednesday and I am one day in to being 73 and its going okay. I’ve decided to write the blog earlier today as I feel I’ve rather short changed folk by being so tired late at night when I usually write the blog. Today started with lots of intent but has ended up a plodding tidying sort of day. I have integrated my lovely presents into my treasure trove and started to nibble away at my new books. They are all so good its difficult to know where to start. I’ve taken a few bites out of The Loneliness of the Soul about the relationship between the work of Tracy Emin and Evard Munch and I’ve had a few crumbs from Why Beautiful People have More Daughters a book on Evolutionary Psychology.
Along with the books came some magnetic book marks, which I use all the time. There is one that arrived that I am particularly attached to already.
Along with the above two other books arrived which I have put to one side to take on holiday with me. The Adichie book I anticipate will be good and the Atom is right up my street.
Along with the books came lots of letter writing paper and envelopes. A complete sketching kit with paper pads also arrived so I am going to take it on holiday with me and play. I cannot draw and have little if any artistic talent (good ideas but no skills to execute them). I thought I might just “do stuff” and then exhibit it as an exhibition entitled “Talentless artist uses up materials”. I can feel hideous seaside daubing’s and seascapes coming on.
I popped out to the garden to dump some wood shaving packaging on the compost heap and notices some new flowers had blossomed in the garden. It is truly amazing how such gems appear in the garden with apparently no effort at all. I also found some interesting moulds growing on my wood pile.
My partner and I take a lunch time stroll around the village checking out gardens and plants as we go. Lunch is soup and then I intended to train, but the weather threw it down and I ended up giving my eldest daughter a lift to her gym session. I pay my car tax, my partners car tax and my HMRC bill for the coming half year. I return to the sofa and nibbled a bit more at my books and then cleared the kitchen and set the table for scones with clotted cream and jam as a treat. They were very good and will fill me till the football this evening. The guy who does the garden arrived and started to tidy up and plant my tomatoes plants out in the raised front bed but half way through his stint the weather turned diluvial and drenched him into submission. I watched him depart defeated as I started to write the blog.
I’ve had lots of cards for my birthday and some letters which prick my conscience as I am aware that I have been neglectful of my correspondents. I think I have been preoccupied with doing my presentation and trying to keep everything going alongside my current wave of blood tests and scans. The managing of my cancer while preparing to go away on holiday has been an additional task as it required the scheduling of my 28 day injection earlier than usual and the ordering of my drugs earlier. It feels like it is time to reset, go no holiday, walk a lot and rest before returning and making the effort to resume as near a normal life as possible, which will include traveling and seeing people again. For me it is a balance of having a life limiting cancer and living in a pandemic virus environment. Not a straight forward equation, it never is but I’ve spent almost 16 months in isolation and I am institutionalised in my own home. My friend in her letter pointed out that I had used the phrase “misplaced sense of time” when I talked about not touching my poetry project. I think that I had taken the mirage of my good health to be a reality that meant that I did not need to pay attention to my mortality and prioritise those things that are important to me. I need to pay attention again and get more active in my life hence my intention to rest on holiday and come back and live with a little more urgency. In the first place expect letters and then visits.
But tonight its England v Denmark
