Hello,
I am still not writing in these pages. By the time I get to work, somehow I just don’t seem to have the energy to do anything other than look quietly out of the windows.
Even reading is hard work.
I seem to have lost, somewhere on the road, any interest in anything other people think is important. The august Daily Telegraph holds no enticements, not even the photographs, and as for Facebook, it has become a vividly-hued but nevertheless incomprehensible whitter.
Books are not much better. I have been trying, without success, to read the lightest of light fiction, including a gentle book about King Arthur that I have long wished to re-read. I gave up on a CS Lewis story because one of the characters said such unkind things to another that it was too upsetting to read, and I could not bear the unhappiness of it.
In the end last night I managed to settle on, and flicked through, a Piers Morgan diatribe, which fitted the bill perfectly, being weightless, probably fiction, and of no importance whatsoever. I could not stomach it for a second evening, and so tonight I am continuing to gaze mildly out of the window, which is about as much as I can manage.
As for writing, just the very act seems to be impossibly difficult. I have almost reached capacity already.
Despite all of this, we are getting better by slow degrees. I hoovered our bedroom today and was completely astonished by how easily the hoover moved over the carpets, collecting dust and fluff as it went. It still took an effort, and I needed a little sit down afterwards, but it is no longer the impossible, exhausting, immovable object of just a few days ago.
The washing, too, was hauled easily over the washing line, without my arms trembling desperately as I tried to lift the heavy towels. I climbed on the step to reach the top of the line with what could even be described as ease, unlike earlier in the week, when I had to collect myself and breathe as deeply as I could, before I could even attempt to scramble so high.
I needed a little sit down after that as well.
I baked some lemon cakes and some coconut prawns and we came to work. I was tired and shaky when I got here, but it is all right now.
I can’t write any more, though. Enough is enough…
