annanotbob's Diaryland Diary
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It seems so long ago; Nancy was alone
This is quite an old pic. Jane (on the right) took it with her phone when we went with Marion (on the left) to that theatre thing, where they put on little plays all over town and we traipsed round:
I feel strong as an ox, bordered by those two.
I spoke to Jane today and she reminded me that the key word in The Big Chill Festival is chill. I know I'm not going to achieve that until we set off in the car, and possibly not till we've turned off the M25 at an unfamiliar place. It's this bit, the getting ready, that's doing me in. I got to a point earlier when I thought I must be mad to even think of going away with Sara, in a tent, to a festival, for five days. It was making me anxious enough just to think about it, let alone do it.
But I have had the usual flood of revelations as I sit down to type. First - I'm over-complicating things. Never in my life have I packed earlier than the night before, so there's no need to fret for hours and hours yet. Second - Sara will spring into action at some point tomorrow and all will be well.
Third - I'm more fucked up, on a more complicated level than I would have expected about the sudden unpredictability of my internet access. It comes and goes, in chunks of days at a time, but even when it's here, I can't always do things. It wouldn't let me upload pictures yesterday, or play scrabulous at all, or open half of the non-diaryland diaries (Hil!!!) I normally read. My hard drive has also gone kaput, so most of my music is unavailable. None of this is good, but it's the loss, of both contact and control, that gives me the jitters.
Still, bollocks to that, I just took Millie round the block, which I really didn't want to do as it's after midnight and I've had a spliff or two etc etc, but it was lovely out there. I like being outside and there'll be almost a whole week of it.
I bought a sunhat today. Well, not as such - I bought a check trilby, what my dad would have called a spiv's hat. All the thing apparently, which is more of a negative really, but it was the only one I could cram all my hair into. Loose hair is a pain - not as much of a pain as paying good money every six weeks to listen to fascist bastard hairdressers droning on about what they'd do if they were in charge, but still, hair needs to be out of the way on a hot day or a windy day, don't you think?
The best news, just through, is that one of my pals from the nutters' swimming club is also going to the festival. Hurrah, and thank fucking christ for that, eh? I shall phone her tomorrow and develop some strategic plans in case of sudden outbreaks of uber-flakiness. Knowing that she's going makes me feel less insane for even considering it - she's at least as bonkers as me, but better at managing herself. I'm thinking we'll have to borrow a tent for Sara - I need to have a space that's clearly mine.
The other thing is that my Tier 2 Recovery programme may start next week, when I get back. I shouldn't really be thinking of starting that with a major chemically induced serotonin deficiency, but who knows? Apprehension is creeping in about starting that.
Other good stuff: Marion came round for tea, waterproof jacket for £3, quite a few phone calls from teacher friends recently released from the treadmill, great dress Sara chose for me, sweet peas going berserk - scent drifting into the ktichen....
11:42 p.m. - 29/07/2008
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