annanotbob's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- There's a little yellow pill I rehabilitated myself today by being on my own, doing lots of gardening very slowly, while smoking a bit of spliff and listening to Joni Mitchell. I'm still a bit shocked at how little I can do without going into meltdown. I was a goner before I had that wisdom tooth out on Thursday, which tipped me right over the edge. It would have been sensible to just chill out yesterday, but I couldn't calm down until I'd finished getting the last of the documents for my housing benefit claim and handing them in to the office. The claim has been going on for so long now that it's eating my brain. We've been waiting for Sara's first payslip plus a letter from her college confirming she's a student. The payslip came in the end, but getting those fuckers at college to get a letter together meant maintaining a constant level of harassment. On Friday I'd had enough so drove over there, all weepy and agitated, to demand the bloody thing, right then, or else. Ach, it wasn't so bad - just lots of driving and too much looking for somewhere to park each time I stopped. Today was much better. Sara had already left for a pre-work swim when I woke up, and I'd definitely decided that I wasn't going anywhere. Maria's got a cheesy old plaque in her garden, saying something like, 'The touch of the sun for pardon, the song of the birds for mirth. You're nearer to God in a garden, than anywhere else on earth.' Well, I don't know about God, but I can see where the sentiment comes from. I was calmed and soothed by just fannying about really, planting a few things up, moving stuff around, pruning, feeding and weeding. Although I did have to acknowledge that in some ways I am my mother's daughter - and I don't mean my mother, but Ma, the bloody stepmother. She's a keen gardener, as was my father. They had their separate areas of interest and responsibilty: Dad was vegetables (mainly on his allotment but also in the garden) and the lawn; Ma was flowers, fruit and the greenhouse. Wherever we lived throughout my childhood, I can remember them bickering about Ma stealing the lawn for flowers. She was always digging up just a little piece here and another one there, year after year. She's still at it now - she lives in a flat without a garden, but Grateful for: Sara making lovely dinner; feeling relaxed; having soil I can dig; roses in bloom smelling of heaven; runner beans have germinated Sweet dreams xxx |11:56 p.m. - 07/06/2008 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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