annanotbob's Diaryland Diary
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Look and dry your eyes
Sometimes there's too much experience contained between posts, even for someone who updates as often as me. So pics and notes and lists and probable detours.
Friday. Hardcore. Not for sissies. But with pleasant intervals, like the beach near the marina at low tide, as the sun went down:
with Sam and Millie:
and a visit from Ren, who looked fucking brilliant, all loose and mellow, which he attributes to two improvements - living in a truly multi-racial city, where people are long since past any petty racism, which had ground him down more than he'd realised, and having the opportunity to start again with a new bunch of people who know nothing about him other than that he's starting an MA in Human Rights. He's sharing a house with seven other post-grads in Islington, in nerdy heaven.
Sara finally did a bit of packing on Friday night, being her usual deadline-defying self. She had till four on Saturday to pick up her keys, and we did make it with whole minutes to spare. There were some darling young people from the college Christian Union (all in matching T shirts) who had made themselves available to help carry stuff from cars to rooms. Man, I could have kissed them, as Sara had mountains, far more than anyone else, and she's on the third floor (British third floor, which comes after ground, first and second) and even with their help I went up and down about five times. She realised she was going to be fine as soon as we reached that part of the city. I've always known she was going to be fine - it's where she's meant to be:
View from her window:
View from my window
I've spent most of the day tidying up at a snail's pace, with a spliff on the go, Traveling Wilburys on the stereo and lots of rests. I started at the front door and worked my way through towards the kitchen, not cleaning, just gathering clutter.
Then I went swimming in the outdoor pool with Marion and cooked us dinner. Rib-eye steak, dauphinoise potatoes, runner beans and tomatoes.
After she left I felt a real pang for my Sara, not going to be coming back, sitting on my bed and telling me all about it. She's not even online yet which is harsh, though we spoke on the phone earlier and she's fine, met loads of people etc.
But it's nice, it feels good and right. I'm stepping out
Grateful for: having made it to here. I mean, really, who'd have thought it?
Sweet dreams xxx
|10:19 p.m. - 20/09/2009
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