annanotbob's Diaryland Diary

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Concentration, slip away

I wish I'd gone to London now. Partly to have just pushed through the anxiety - I'd have been all right once I was on the train. I was fretting about whether the Victoria Line was still closed, but that didn't really matter, it would have just meant a bit of a detour. And now I'd be sitting on someone else's sofa, looking forward to seeing Sara and Ren tomorrow.

Ah well. Just had a big cry about it, about letting a moment of panic distract me from the knowledge that I always feel better when I'm on the move and that I've had enough of my own company for now. Must remember to THINK. To pause before rushing from one decision to the next. I only called Jane this morning to ask for the taxi number to go to the railway station and somehow ended up determined to not be forced to travel when I didn't want to and immediately phoned Mary, Sara and Renny, telling them I wasn't coming. But it was MY plan - I wanted to go.

I got a swim in the rain though, and managed to do twenty-four lengths after pushing through a big rush of 'I can't do this' at about length eight. I'm going to increase by two every time I go. After the swim I always sit in the spa for ten minutes, then go in the steam room. When I first started I made it a matter of principle that I would always do this, no matter who else was in them (unless they were full, obviously), and I've never really felt uncomfortable in either. Not since I realised that Sunday afternoons is a big gay men's pick-up session - the place is heaving with sexual tension, all preening and posing and simmering looks, but women are invisible, so it doesn't make any difference. Today I clamboured into the hot tub without really noticing that it already contained seven blokes who all knew each other and were partaking of banter. Few things are as dis-spiriting, tedious, hilarious as a bunch of straight mid-twenties blokes having a bit of fun. I sat there for a while, trying to get comfortable while keeping my legs to myself - you can't see what's going on under all those bubbles and I didn't want to be touching any flesh - and felt quite amazed to be calmly sharing a small pool/large bowl of fizzy water with a group of half naked young men (but don't think of them as attractive, they weren't. OK, one of them, a bit), especially considering how many things give me the absolute heebie-jeebies. I did feel very old and very female, but glad to be both if the alternative is young and male, which seems to involve far too much competition and all round effort.

I just got a text from the Women and Art group saying it's starting up again tomorrow. I'm kind of tempted, although the new one, 'Time Out For Art' is quite similar in that there's more in the way of opportunity than specific teaching going on. But it's still time spent doing something arty, two minutes down the road. I liked the new group much more - we all felt quite excited to discover where she was taking us, and it didn't feel so much like bursting in to a long-established, closed bunch of people. Because it wasn't, but the Women and Art group is.

Ach, I've just hunted high and low through this computer looking for the photo I took of my collage. Where is the Oct 09 folder, eh?

Night night xxx

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8:35 p.m. - 05/10/2009

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