Just a Perfect Day

A couple of days sunshine, and the Midlands becomes another place.

On Friday, I took Darcy up to the Memorial Park. I’m used to having the place more or less to myself, occasionally in the company of a park keeper on a mower, and a jogger in waterproofs. It had been sunny all day. When I arrived at 3pm the car park was full and the grass was littered. Littered with crisp packets and also with people who just didn’t seem to have visited a park before. Teenage girls sat cross legged in fairy ring circles, while boys without footballs kicked empty cans in diverse directions while eyeing the girls’ pale flesh. Amongst the families were an unusual number of dog-phobics. I’m cautious around unfamiliar animals and don’t like barking or jumping up, so I sort of get them. I don’t like to see anybody distressed by my dogs, but some people act unreasonably in what is a park where dogs off lead are allowed. People with kids: get over it, how much damage do you think my Cavalier King Charles Spaniel is going to do to you and your offspring, especially if he’s ten feet away and sniffing a tree? The somewhat frenetic energy about the place had left me tense, and so I cut my intended route short.

Saturday, Nick and I took a trip to Birmingham. I have very mixed feelings about the city, some days struggling with the grubbiness of the streets, competitive driving style and the overcrowding. This was a perfect day though. Presumably many people had gone to find greenspace because the shops were running at and easy going pace. It is a rare day that Nick and I enjoy each others company while shopping, but this was one such time. I relaxed the budget a little and once we had bought Nick a good bag for work, we had a nice healthy lunch and a posh ice-cream as a treat. I felt like the me of several years ago, chatting with a stranger in a queue and joking with two little girls whose Dad was carrying an unfeasibly large bunch of balloons into a lift. Nick even let me tease him a little by getting him a tropical fruit salad rather than the sticky bun he requested. There was a bad sitcom moment when, in a bookshop plastered with posters advertising Richard Herring’s soon to be published book. Nick helpfully suggested that I get hold of the lifesize on and display it at home. I was sent by staff from desk to desk and floor to floor in search of tickets for the book read, winding up paying for this unashamedly adult entertainment at the children’s desk.

Wednesday 5.8.09

Managed to feel fairly normal today, as did the sunshine which appeared, quite unexpectedly given the recent greyness.

Feeling normal has not helped me to get anything done though. I eventually pulled myself away from a Tim Minchin fest and took Darcy for a long walk. He was delighted and went off frolicking a long way, from puddle to puddle, rushing to a climax when he decided to swim in the pond. I'm not sure if the stench will ever leave him. The Memorial park was crowded, and lots of people stopped to chat. Maybe the warmth put everybody in a good mood, the joggers and the children on bikes,'that's a nice doggy', the couples and the old guy, 'I don't mind him jumping up'. I felt unfit though. And wheezy.

Afterwards, I was uninspired and got no writing done, but had a big headache and got Nick to make burgers for tea.

Big Brother remains a fascination and tonight's episode was particularly good. All human life is there; the bickering, lies, alliances, divisions, heroes and victims, the vain and the beautiful. Laughs too. Lots of laughs.

Wednesday 8.7.09

Well, I did promise myself I'd get off my arse today. Thankfully I made good on it, although not in any spectacular way. I feel better for it, but then again, I felt better anyway, otherwise I couldn't have got on with stuff. QED.

I forced myself out of bed early and look Darcy for a walk. We did the full 2.5 miles around the Memorial Park, clockwise. It was as much exercise as I've done all week, and my muscles were rebelling slightly, but I persevered. Darcy was very happy and ran the whole distance in the way that I remember running a walk with adults as a child. I would run on ahead (in fact I would usually skip) then stop to examine something, by which time the trailing adult would arrive and I would run on again. Darcy also did the child's trick of stopping at forks in the path and looking back as if to guess the route.

I rarely walk in the morning and was impressed that people seemed to be in a good mood. Darcy jumped up into the middle of a couple holding hands. He was a bit muddy and they could have been annoyed at his breaking up their romantic moment, but they laughed in stead. Quite a few young people were about, I think because GCSE's are over. Three young men were in the skateboard park, not on their boards, but reclining on a ramp sharing bottles of pop and their i-pods. Darcy ran up to them and gave us all a joyful moment when he failed to make it to the top of the ramp and slid down backwards with a scraping of nails. There was a nice woman with a learning disability out with her friend. She wanted to pet Darcy and was charming in a witty way. She told me that they were going shopping next, which was my plan too.

I managed a healthy supermarket shop and resisted cakes, chocolate, crisps, and pastry. It was a bonus that the shopping was cheaper as although I had bought extra fruit and veggi burgers, I didn't buy any meat. Swings and roundabouts though I had to buy a new bathroom caddy from B&Q. The previous one has broken apart due to rust and it has been bothering me for almost two weeks. Finally, there I was at B&Q. The caddy, in a new style, was almost £13. Ouch. Funny how I would think nothing of spending that much on a take-away meal to last the night, and yet find it expensive for something that will be used every day and last two years (if it lasts as long as the last one).

I had lunch out and read the paper which was devoted to Michael Jackson's funeral. Again, I failed to be moved. I was impressed to read the sensationalist reports that me are now redundant, lab-grown sperm are the future. MJ would have loved that possibility I'm sure, given that his children have turned out to be biologically related to neither parent. It looks as though they were loved though. He protected them from the glare of publicity for the most part. Unlike his family who have thrust them right in to the spotlight. Poor kids, especially Blanket who will have to contend with having lost his Dad and with having a difficult name. I'm glad that our kids have almost grown up. If they lost us, they would be Ok. It's a morbid thought but true. Heaven knows what they would do with my fabric and their Dad's aeroplane books though. We'd better stay alive.

Wednesday 20.5.09

After a few good weeks, I found myself in a low mood from the minute I woke up. I have no idea where it came from, and could not have predicted it. I remember getting some advise centred around looking for early warning signs and taking positive action to 'head it off at the pass', but I don't see how I could have done that today. I had slept in, but only an hour longer than usual. The sun was up, but before I was aware of being awake, I had the prickly feeling across the temples that things weren't right.

My usual grumpy morning self medications of sweet food, two cups of tea and a shower failed to cheer me up. I sat pressed to the chair most of the day, with nagging feelings that the house needed cleaning and that must be pleasant things to do, but I was still unable to get moving. Late afternoon I made a half hearted stab at cleaning up the kitchen and bathroom. This made me feel even worse, and I got tearful, unable to tackle it with any logic or efficacy. After the tears, I got a rush of unjustified anger that the family had left the mess, feeling they had done it deliberately. I split the kitchen bin bag and had an urge to spread the rubbish over the floor and walk away. the world ended when I took the bag to the wheely bin to find that it hadn't been put out for today's collection. I left the half-made dinner to burn, and went and sat down again. I wanted to feel looked after, but nobody was about, and once the family drifted in, they took a look at me and migrated to the far ends of the house. I can't say I blame them.

The bad feeling started to lift at around 7.30, so I took probably the best advice about depression that I ever received and got out for a walk. It was warm, with the sun low in the sky so that deep yellow tones came through the trees. I was thinking about how much the Memorial Park has figured in my trying to fix my depression. At my very worst, most days I used to refuse to go out in the daytime, so Nick would take me for walks in the dark and the rain every night. I'm not sure how long that phase lasted, it was a period of several months. One time at this park, I got tripped out visions where I saw the grass not as green, but in its constituent colours of purple, silver, brown, navy and yellow. I had been advised by a nurse not to read up on the depression 'you'll frighten yourself', so I didn't know that for some, the condition heightens the senses to an overwhelming degree (there is a medical term, but I've forgotten it). Some people can use their depression creatively because of this. Now, I wonder if impressionism was developed after a depressive episode, the grass looked a bit like an impressionistic painting that day, but with strong colours, not wishy-washy pastels. I didn't tell anybody about it at the time. Even as I saw those colours, I knew it was madness.

The weirdest Memorial Park event was when I hexed someone's face off. I felt (and still feel) that myself and many of my friends were deeply wronged by a former colleague. I had no way of confronting him or defending myself from his actions. At the time, if I wasn't weeping I was blank, immobile and mostly emotionless. Depression is not really the same as feeling sad. My doctor said that I seemed to be suppressing my anger and that I should try to let it out. She advised that I went for a long, brisk walk and focused the anger on every breath out. It was worth a go. At that time, I took every bit of advice and treatment that I could. A nurse once came to offer me assertiveness classes, would I accept them? I told her deadpan that if she told me to walk around the ring road naked I would do it if she told me clockwise or anti-clockwise. Anyway, I left that doctors appointment at 8.30 and walked all day. Round and round the park, talking to myself and pouring all of my hatred for this one man out on to his smug face which seemed to float in front of me. I stamped on his face, stabbed it, punched it, it was eaten by maggots and chewed on by dogs. I got home at 3pm to the sound of the phone ringing. It was a friend calling to say that this man had been involved in a freak accident. He had been building a pond when he slipped on mud and fell into a wall. He had de-gloved his face, lost his nose, several teeth and broke his jaw. He was in intensive care.

That story is 100% true (everything in every blog is true actually, but when I tell this particular story not everyone believes it). for a long time after, I genuinely believed that I had harmed him. I'm normally on the side of rationality, and whilst I mostly think it was just a coincidence, there is a part of me that feels that some sort of cosmic justice had been served that day.

At the park, the rhododendrons were in bloom. You don't see too many of them in the Midlands, but they are very popular in Cornwall, they do well in the acidic soil. I like them because I used to see fairies in the rhododendron bush at the bottom of the garden. That wasn't because I was ill though. That was because I was four years old and had an active imagination. I didn't see any fairies today, and the grass was just green. I'm fine now. Thanks for asking.

Tuesday 19.5.09

Sorry to write about the weather, it's such an English cliche to do so. I don't even count myself as English, I'm Cornish, or British, or European, and we don't talk about the weather. It has been a day of sunshine and showers. I knew it would be as my friend S let me know that that was the weather in Liskeard, and Cornwall always gets the weather first. It was sunny in Coventry at the time, and Darcy was telling me it was time to get out for a walk. I was too busy lolling about to listen though. Eventually, he decided to have a good sleep and advised me to do the same as the rain was coming in. I paid no attention and decided it was time to go out for a longish walk, rain or no rain.

When I was a girl I used to listen to Mum's James Taylor records and dream of just walking a long way away, indefinitely. I knew it wasn't realistic, but I liked the idea of just walking until I was tired and sleeping in some homemade shelter appealed. The song that made me think of that, Country Road (on the Sweet Baby James album, try Spotify) has come back into my life, inspiring similar fantasies. I was optimistic the rain was passing off and keen to get out.

We got to the park via the sunny trip to the supermarket. I decided to break my usual pattern and walk clockwise around the Memorial Park. I parked in an unusual spot. Darcy was initially confused by this, but rushed off to find some other dogs to chase and some strangers to jump up at. I was still at the car as the poo bags that I usually keep in the glove box were absent. I resorted to searching around on the floor of the car for plastic food packaging with which to pick up the inevitable deposits. I found a sweet bag and the wrapper from an English Pasty just as freckles of rain touched the windscreen. I was proud of myself for not cleaning out the car, see, tidiness is over-rated .

I had my pacamac with me and all was well as I called Darcy back from his anti-clockwise paddle in the muddied stream. All of the excitement was too much for him, and he rushed off into the middle of the sodden field to poo. I had hoped to stay on the paths, but made my way over to pick it up. I then found that the sweet packet (the larger of the bags I had found) was too small to get the poo into, so I had to use it as a sort of tongs and carry the poo exposed to the bin. Not content with this, ten minutes further round, he managed another big one. Getting that to the bin began to feel a bit like an egg and spoon race, only the egg was three big bits of poo and the spoon was a flimsy pasty packet. I was triumphant when I got to the bin without getting poo on my hands, clothes, or a passing child.

The rain started to pelt down. I didn't mind too much. It reminded me of the walking trips I used to make to the Lake District with some people with a learning disability. Cumbria gets more rain than any other part of the UK and in my experience a lot of that is of the sunshine and showers variety. There were times when I wished that I could make it a rule that I would only go with people who could put on their own coat and do it up unaided. I spent a lot of time up there as wet as the sheep but I was a good worker and always put on the other persons coat before my own. I love the Lakes and thought about how I would like to get fit again and do some hill walking. It is a very special area to spend some time in. The people who needed help with their coats gave me a great gift.

After the rain came the thunder. Darcy started to walk to heel and his ears drooped lower and lower to the ground. He loves to swim and paddle up to his neck in the filthiest pond water, but he's not keen on the rain. He was too polite to say 'I told you so', but he took a determined route back to the car. I don't mind thunder too much, but we were out in the open. I was a bit concerned about walking past people who had their umbrellas up. What if lightning was attracted to the spine of the umbrella at just the time I was brushing past them? I made a detour to bypass a man with a large umbrella on a narrow path. Darcy called me a stupid human. I don't think he was quite fair about that.

We got home soaked, Darcy with the wet dog smell that can't be eradicated by any method known to him or me. Me a bit snuffly and stiff. Half an hour later, the sun shone brilliantly and Darcy lay in it's warmth to dry off.

While I was at the supermarket, I read a bit of an article about a man who has written lots of quirky begging letters to companies he likes. Many of them have sent him free stuff. I was wondering if it might be worth my writing to the makers of French Fancies. I have been promoting their product to readers of this blog for literally days. Also, I do genuinely 100% love French Fancies, especially the pinks, as I think I may have said. I've been running the diary style blog since 8th February, this will be entry 78. I started assuming that no one would read it, but I wanted the discipline of writing something every day, and to get a bit braver about getting my writing out there. I have no way of knowing how many people read it. The wonderful surprise is that some readers have been kind enough to get in touch to let me know that they have enjoyed it. It has been a real buzz to hear from you. Thank you. There is a facility to leave a comment on any of the entries, and you don't have to be signed up to Blogger.com to do that. I've taken off the comment moderation to make it easier, and because I feel a bit more confident now. I value feedback hugely. Seriously tho', thank you.

Tuesday 24.3.09

Woke up to the sunshine, feeling energetic today. Isn't that an ordinary thing? The last time I fully experienced this feeling - including waking up and wanting to get out of bed - was, I think late August last year. I've got used to the sluggishness to the extent that I've incorporated it into my life as being normal, just me being me, and today that seemed absurd. At around 2pm, I recognised that the ability and motivation to sort out some bags of junk, finish the laundry, listen to the whole of a podcast and recall it, is a normal state of mind. I hope I'm able to sustain it as it feels good, and I've got loads done.

I sorted out the three bags of stuff that Nick cleared out of the car a couple of months ago. It was all stuff that I had accumulated there while I was in Cornwall last year. As I didn't want some of it but thought it could be used, I put it out on the front wall, hoping someone would take it. There were the packets of vegetable seeds that never got planted, and some books that I had got from the Lions Club sale on the beach. I was pleased that a couple of hours later, the books had gone. It had rained by this time so I had to throw away the seeds. With all the rest of the tidying, I threw out four bin bags, ready for the lorry tomorrow.

I cooked a good dinner and while it was cooking, took Darcy for a walk. Get me, doing two things at once! He is a bit miserable, having been wormed. The gaudy flower beds have been planted up. From one angle, the park looked like the guardians of civic life in the 50's might have imagined with the formal flower beds, the pavilion, and tennis courts, and the grand deco memorial in the background. It says something that today I even managed to appreciate something of Coventry. Surely this can't last.

In the evening, Nina and I went to the supermarket and amongst other things, bought me a giant pink French Fancie Birthday Cake. Deep, deep joy. The young man who served us at the checkout said that I would enjoy it as he had had one for his birthday. I told him I would think of him tomorrow, and I will.

In a final burst of positive Dee, I have partially completed my college application. It'll all end in tears.

Friday 13.3.09

No blog entry yesterday because Nick and I watched part two of the Red Riding trilogy (originally written by David Peace) shown on Channel 4. We had watched the whole of the programme together, this hardly ever happens. When the credits rolled, I asked him what he thought. "alright" he said. I tried to get a conversation going but only succeeded in getting the same one word response. I didn't push it further, and didn't write my blog. I was upset, my chest started to hurt. I wanted to go for a walk, but Coventry after midnight is inhabited by worse than vampires, it crawls with nightclub rejects. Nick realised something was wrong but didn't know what. He was sweet and fell asleep facing me, holding my arm. The pain over my sternum went away.

Darcy and I went for a long walk today. We did the full circuit of the Memorial Park. It was about three in the afternoon and there were groups of older children walking home together, playing and laughing as they went. Darcy was full of mischief and used his talent for going up to flirt with the ones who were frightened of dogs. It was sweet that the frightened ones were protected by their friends. Darcy avoided all of the children who wanted to pet him, of course. I remembered walking home with my friends after school. The laughter, the barging each other, piggybacks, singing, talking loud. My friend Sami and I would walk together, down the hill to her house. Her mum would always be in, and sometimes there would be home made coffee cake. That was the best cake I've ever tasted. I'm glad I'm back in touch with Sami, even if its just as a Facebook friend, and in spite of her taste for sending me facebook fairies.

After the children came the footballers. A group of young men at the car park end. Like schoolboys, they had piled up their bags to make goalposts, even though the park has several real ones. They were running about shouting and laughing while faithfully playing the game. I watched from the car, feeling libidinous, looking at the legs in the white shorts that many of them had chosen to wear, the flirts. Oddly, there was no fat one, not even in goal. I thought there had to be a fat one, just for team morale. There was a weedy one, as required, which was a relief. As if to replace the fat one, there was an especially short one. Perhaps he was the sub?

In case I look back on this entry and think I was only able to notice young men, I also noticed that the may trees were just coming into blossom. I tried to photograph it but couldn't get the camera to focus.

Its red nose day, they just announced they raised 14m more than and previous year. I'm pleased for them, the quality of the work, and the publicity has been good this year. The cause is good, and yet I have shouted at the screen, "Yes but also smash the capitalist drugs companies, drop the debt, bring democracy and equality, break the ridiculous excesses of organised religion, then give a tenner!