HS003
12
MAY 2016: DIARY DAY
8.00
mobile alarm sings out the hour, wakes me up. Automatically hit Radio 4 button
but, as per usual, don’t listen to a word: the Today programme increasingly
annoys me and I end up shouting at the radio. M. still fast asleep. Slippers
on, dressing gown on, clean teeth and wander downstairs where the little dog is
fast asleep at the foot of the stairs, very reluctant to wake up — like her
other owner, she is not an early riser; into sitting room to feed ancient
goldfish, who is now huge and translucent, having lost all trace of orange.
Back to dog who is delighted to see me, turns over to have her tummy tickled —
there is nothing like a dog’s excitable welcome to banish morning negativity
and ensure that every day starts happily even if it doesn’t always stay that
way.
8.30
kettle on; little dog gallops into garden for a wee. The garden smells
wonderfully fresh after a night’s heavy rainfall and I notice the slugs have
come out in force, horrid creatures. Dog back into her bed (she has three
sleeping places in the house) while I make tea (for M.) and strong black coffee
for me. It is absolutely impossible for me to get started without black coffee,
a habit going back years to the days when I wrote frantically into the small hours
to meet publishers’ deadlines and once upon a long time ago, accompanied by a
roll-up, but no more.
8.45
partner up and dressed; it takes me much longer while I ponder the right
clothes for the day. I may work from home but I always feel the need to chose
my clothes carefully. Hot, relaxing bath, while I think about the numerous
things I need to get done today, dress and take the dog for a walk over the
West Hill. The grass is fresh, the air is crystalline, the sea is sparkling,
the view from the West Hill over the higgledy roofs of the Old Town, the
fishing boats and sea stretching to the far horizon is truly gorgeous, one of
the best views in the world. Dog walk turns into social occasion as,
coincidentally, while I’m walking past my good friend J’s house, builders are
entering and she invites me in for coffee. Chat and general gossipy catch-up
make up a pleasurable and unexpected bit of socialising, while dog sits
quietly, then back onto the West Hill, avoiding large dogs and make a circuit
of Ladies’ Parlour, gazing at the ruins of Hastings castle, while always
admiring the view. As dog and I wander home completely content, the first raindrops
arrive. Today is due to be a day of sunshine and showers. It’s so good though
to feel the warmth and hints of summer to come. My spirits rise when the sun
shines.
10.00
More coffee, some toast, quick glance at the Guardian; apparently David
Cameron is fulminating on the need to rid corruption in various countries; he’s
not necessarily wrong about Nigeria and Afghanistan but it might be an idea to
investigate our own nation’s corruption before pointing the finger at others.
Cameron himself after all is the son of a man who made full use of the
off-shore tax legislation, which conveniently left him very well off and with a
privileged education. Hey ho. Politics are pretty ghastly at the moment; it’s
difficult to keep faith in humanity and hope for the future sometimes.
11.00
Finally sit down and do what I’ve been intending to do for ages, namely tidy up
paperwork, bring diary appointments up to date and most importantly sort out my
mother’s banking and other details. There is much to do to collate all her
papers. I’ve been putting this task off but today have finally got stuff in
order — for the moment, which is pleasing. Deal with some of my outstanding
paperwork also, what an ex-partner used to call “getting my personal
environment under control.” Catch up with emails, think about book ideas and
workshop projects I want to get underway. I need to clear space for these but
instead decide to email GlaxoSmithKline to suggest Ventolin inhalers design some
means of indicating how many doses are left, something I’ve been meaning to do
for ages.
1.30
Change into smart-ish white trousers and down to town to do a brief stint for Hastings
Speaks, although the table is well attended and B. points out there is
probably no need for me to worry. The weather is fabulous: hot, bright sun,
some people wearing shorts and T-shirts. Enjoy myself accosting passers-by
inviting them to complete a diary, however small or large, for today. As
always, when engaging with the public, there are such interesting people: one,
pierced striking young woman dressed in black, hurrying for a job interview but
says she will record her day later; another woman who tells me her day so far
has been one of stress, smoking and work; while a third tells me that no sooner
had she sat on a bench, when a drunk came up and asked her to have sex with
him. QED: a cross section of life in Hastings today! I enjoy interacting with
folks but can only spend a brief period in the town as I need to be at my
mother’s care home for a meeting at 4pm latest. On way back to pick up my car,
I pop into H&M and buy what I think is a very attractive white cotton shirt
that can be my mother’s birthday present to my sis. Also a sparkly b’day card.
4pm
Talk at Mum’s care home about the Butterfly Project, linked to Dementia Care
Matters, a new approach to people living with dementia. Interesting and
engaging presentation, kicked off with an intriguing exercise asking us to
draw, from memory, a 2p piece. Realise I have absolutely no idea what a 2p
piece looks like, so sit with a blank sheet of paper which transports me
straight back to school days and feelings of rebelliousness, my standard
reaction when I couldn’t do a task. The exercise sparks considerable
discussion, which is both fascinating and engaging. We learn that the project,
or more correctly programme, promotes a new and entirely person-centred
approach that is being picked up in UK, US and most recently Australia. Dementia
is a cruel disease but the programme advocates focusing on the person and
feelings rather than the disease and loss of cognitive functions, a very positive
approach. Feel both saddened and encouraged by the presentation. Afterwards a
mighty spread is offered (unfortunately caterers rarely consider vegans, and I
guess why should they. but it does mean I end up eating cherry tomatoes only),
then up to spend a little time with Mum who is perky though sleepy.
7pm
Home for a chilled spritzer and relax in my much-loved garden, which has seen
many transformations in the 37 years that I’ve lived here. The swifts have now
arrived and watching them dart and swoop through the sky as sunset approaches
is an annual delight.
9pm.
Watch Mulholland Drive for movie club next week. Weird film, very weird. It’s
disturbing and intriguing. Check out various reviews to discover that it has a
massive online following and so to bed around midnight.
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