Fucking hell, this world. Man, it's all happening too fast - there's no time to get a handle on one momentous event before the next one's upon us. No time to process anything, to formulate a real opinion rather than a knee-jerk reaction to lurid headlines.

Still, some good things going round on twitter, like:

This is still an opportunity for police to speak up against police brutality. Period. Turn in your partners. Break the code. No cover ups @SaulWilliams

Which would be a start.

There's also this: "Every time you call him Boris instead of Johnson you propagate a carefully cultivated brand: friendly, eccentric, benign" @MartinShovel

So I'm trying to get myself into a better place by doing all the healing shit I can. Art today, where I copied a photo I'd taken of the side of the local church:



I didn't get as far as finishing the sketch, never mind painting it - unheard of for me - as there was a bloke sitting next to me who somehow managed to offload onto me responsibility for finding directions to the care home his aged mother lives in. This was partly because he'd seen me before, with my magic phone, getting answers to tricky questions, and if he'd've just a) shut the fuck up, and b) worn his glasses when he intended getting me to find the maps he needed to look at on a phone screen, I could have done it in five minutes and got back to my picture, but he kept on about turning left off the motorway - (there is no motorway - oh, he means the top road, which is a dual carriageway) - and about knowing it was near the big building (expressive gesture with the arms to indicate size) with the arches and the columns because when he went past it with his sister when she took him, he thought, "I'll remember that, it'll be my marker," but I didn't know where the fuck he meant, and if he'd only go along the coast road, it would be simple but he wouldn't even look at that idea and the signal kept fading and the map would stop uploading or I pressed the wrong bit with my fat fingers and it ended up taking half the class and suddenly it was time to pack up and I sat in a dither over whether to bring the unfinished picture home or leave it there for next week and I did leave it and now I wish I'd brought it home.


I feel as if there was more than that, of a self-healing nature, that I did today, but it seems to have slipped through my mind and out the other side. I saw both my girls and did a mindfulness meditation using the Headspace app, starting back at the beginning. And I walked 5,937 steps, which is almost 6,000 and I could've walked the rest up the garden and back but it's just being pedantic, doing that, isn't it?

I am grateful for: still being here, I suppose, though not really sure; first meal from organic veg box - broad bean fritters, made by Bloke, cool, healthy etc; daughters; Son - who feels as if he's in a foreign land, working in the heart of government as he does - I have to resist the temptation to call him all the time and demand that he give me the inside scoop on the new minister for education - I mean, it is good that she's appointing plenty of women, even though they're all bloody hard-core right-wing Tories and some of them are stupid. There's one saying men shouldn't work with children as they're more likely to be paedophiles, though sadly not that men shouldn't be bankers as they're more likely to be robbers.

Sleep tight xxx