Strange times…

England has just back stepped in it’s opening up of the economy. I think this was inevitable. One cannot pretend a virus is ‘under control’ while there are still infections occurring. Indeed, people are still dying of Covid 19 here. This is not a second wave. The first wave is not over.

For the last ten days or so, I have woken thinking I have Covid 19. Whether this is becauseof dreams, or because I wake with a dry throat, I don’t know. I think my dry throat or sore feeling is the chronic fatigue that I get once or twice a year.

I started this summer waking very early and not sleeping well. Now I don’t wake early and find it hard to get out of bed. Sleep comes more easily, but is reluctant to leave. My mornings are sluggish and reluctant. Next week I have an X-ray appointment before noon. That will be a challenge.

My late mornings correlate directly with the loss of seeing the harbour from my bed. For fifteen years I have only had to rise on one elbow to see the vista of the the water and boats. I can still see the harbour but have to leave my bed. It is no longer my constant companion while writing or thinking. Daydreaming.

It is a bereavement, a grief, and one I feel keenly. If I am struggling this much now, how much more worse will it be in winter? It is unimaginable. And yet I have my garden. It bearsfruit. I have just picked and eaten my second fig, and tomorrow’s is marked out. They are so refreshing, so sweet, so unimaginably good. There are strawberries and tomatoes waiting, blueberries ripening. And my flowers. My trees.

So, there are many not as fortunate as I am. Counting my blessings and gratitude for what I have is my strength. It keeps me going in hard times when my mood is low.

My only regret in life is that I married the man I did. But then I wouldn’t have my daughter. I often think of dropping the name Brady, but the expense and inconvenience are too much.

My pain is manageable. Most days I have none and then my hip will start to hurt. That is manageble. Meditation and prayer take it away.

I am aware of my body though. There is always a sensation somewhere. And I know I look different and I wonder how many men would talk to me if I didn’t.

We need to stop putting the economy ahead of human lives. This virus kills and when it doesn’t it can leave nasty side effects for life or a long time. This will be with us for a long time.

Time passes…

My depression is flattening out. I just looked out my window and the sun is making the chain ferry luminous in the late sun. The harbour is so blue.

So I’m doing a bit better. My friends and I are passing silly videos and memes on WhatsApp which brings laughter into the day.

I came across a flat with a wrap around terrace. But the kitchen is in the living room and I really dislike that. Then I found a ground floor flat what is in a converted church. I love it. It’s in Penzance, so very impractical.

I don’t want to move but I’d love to be closer to my cousin, who’s in Sunderland, very far from Cornwall.

Yesterday, I had the pleasure of cutting my daughter’s hair. It seems like ages since I did that. I did it all her life, stating at age 31/2.

The clouds are pink now, turning coral. And fading into grey/blue.

I continue to write articles. I sleep later though.

My friend down the road came for distance cup of tea. My cleaner came. The police could stop him and fine him. But I said he should them to phone me.

I’m grateful that people have reached out to me while the depression was bad. I’m so glad I’m not an alcoholic. Just think, drinking until you’re numb, with with no purpose in life, living a lie like Mike Ebsworth.

So jubilant the neighbours are gone. I celebrate each day.

The morning after…

This morning I woke with a very painful bruise on the back of my pelvis, and a tender spot on my skull. I am very fortunate. Thank you for your kind remarks and concern.

It was a blessing in disguise, as I was able to catch up with my friends. They had heard about Michael Ebsworth’s attempt to move in. I explained why he left and their response was the same as every other of my friends. He has always known I am frail, and always known I have help in my home. It was not an eye opener for him at all.

According to his former girlfriend, he was very untidy. We will leave it at that. So she was shocked to hear his criticism of my home, etc. He wasn’t when he lived next door. He, like the paramedic, told me I have very good taste.

So my friend who lives down the road brought milk this morning. I’m having a duvet day as another friend had suggested. I had wanted to move around, but that hurts too much.

My new front door arrived this morning. I chose a white one this time, but still with two vertical frosted panels. I love how the white adds more light to my hall. The sun comes through and picks up the sunshine of my pale apricot walls. In summer, the sun comes through my bathroom and plays with the pale apricot. I really love my home. The harbour looks very still today, a change after all the stormy weather.

So today I will rest. I will watch some TV and hopefully nap.