There's been talk around here today about why we blog, who we're doing it for. I do it for me, because I write, I've always written and I go a little bit more mental when I don't. I have seen it writ that no one who hasn't been published can call themselves a writer, which is patently bollocks as a) they're not the boss of me man, and b) I am a fucking writer... - shit I was going somewhere with that but I just had quite a big fat spliff and lost my thread.

Being a bit anxiety-prone [really??-Ed] I sometimes feel aware of the tastes/sensitivities/interests of the few very disparate people I know read this, but that way madness lies, as there's never any pleasing everybody - not everyone likes Shakespeare, for fuck's sake, so there's no point in trying to please anyone except yourself. I can't always do that - I haven't liked the way this has turned into a bit of a m1s3ry memoir in recent times, but that's how it is and those who don't like it will have already fucked off, OK.

Today was OK. I had my session with the MS counsellor (getting a bit of a crush on her) which I left feeling more buoyant than I've been, then went on to stock up on the evil weed. Jesus, I wish they'd legalise dope, at least for pensioners. I mean, he's a nice lad, the one I go to - I've known him since he was eight and he's thirty now, so probably not a lad as such but it's hard to accept he's a man - comes from a family where all the other males are proper wrong 'uns, but he's taught himself to paint, has an amazing talent and dedication and is a gentle soul. But he lives in a shared house so we go to his room and I sit on his bed and look at his latest work hanging on the line to dry (he paints in oils, so has several on the go at once), and we chat, and on the one hand there's no problem, but on the other it feels undignified for a woman of my age to have to carry on like this just to have a joint after my evening meal, don't you think? And I always seem to get in my head "Let's Make a Dope Deal!" in that cheesy American game show accent from the Cheech and Chong album we thought was so hysterical back in the day:



Jeez, it's half one already. Notes:

1. SC came round, all anxious about an interview to make her job permanent rather than just a maternity cover, and I was able to share Hil's concept of bundling all your depressive thoughts into one ball and giving them a name. It's brilliant - Hil calls hers Steve - so where SC is saying 'I'm a crap teacher' I can point out that she does brilliant lessons, kids love her and her results are good, so this is her Steve, coming in and whispering shit in her head and it becomes more containable. Not the magic key, sadly, but another useful tool in the box.

2. I walked all the way to the other end of the main road to get photos done in the booth for my Glasto pass. Many ticks for that - for the walking - there and back again, longer than for ages - for the accepting that I can't look anything but grim when I try to smile, so cheerful is not an option, stupid it is. I wore the pair of giant red specs I won as a booby prize at GS's party in the summer that are over twelve inches across and usually sit on this picture:



I forgot scissors to cut up the strip and an envelope to send it to YD in (she's organising it all), so went to buy a card and the first one I spotted was of a rabbit reading a copy of Watership Down (which YD just finished) and a speech balloon coming out of its head saying: 'Fucking hell!' which was pretty damn perfect so I posted the pics straight off before I could have any qualms about looking a right tit in the photos.

3. A political guy I follow on twitter has a mother with dementia. He tweeted about an incident with her, about moments of shared joy. I commented, thanking him, mentioned ED. He replied 'Thanks. Solidarity! x' I was immediately 'followed' by someone who runs a dementia website. I followed her back, tweets ensued - tonight she put out a call to her 3,000 followers for a buddy for me (unnamed), for a parent of a child with dementia or similar (most everything is about elderly parents). Yay for social media.

Well, note-making hardly shortened this, it's now 2 am so I am offski.

Today I am grateful for: the kindness of strangers; and friends; being out in the air; Glasto - rumours so far are Prince and Dolly Parton - mega yay on both counts, Arctic Monkeys only act confirmed, not over fussed though they do put on a rocking show - I dream of Patti...; a good day

Sleep tight xxx