This is the pic that vanished when I tried to make it the 'featured image' yesterday. I like all the crows on these beaches.

Today I went for a walk with a woman from the art group, which I was very anxious about beforehand, but which turned out to be very enjoyable, what with the autumn leaves and the light low in the sky and all that.



She treated me to lunch in a swanky restaurant where we sat by the fire eating seafood and chatting shit. Lovely.



Then I went to see ED and the manager of the home had a letter giving us an appointment with the urologist to discuss the operation next Monday. And another letter saying the op will be on the Wednesday, if we go ahead with it, which we probably will. Such short notice. I am so anxious about this, I cannot tell you. She's so vulnerable, I cannot bear it. And bad things have happened to her at this time of year, which is not an argument that holds water, but gives me the creeps anyway.

It was wild in the home this afternoon. The manager, N, is an absolute diamond. Because she hasn't liked ED being confined to her room, she bought her a really nice, comfy reclining chair so now ED's back in the lounge, near the doorway to the kitchen, right in the thick of it again. Much better for her, but hard, man, really hard when I'm overflowing with anxiety already. The other residents are all adults with some physical disabilities and severe learning disabilities. I'm getting to know them - there are only ten of them - and getting the hang of them, but the truth is several of them make noises which can be alarming and agitating. They all feel like children despite mostly being in their thirties or forties - I was going to say there's a lad who... but he's in his thirties so a man. Whatever he is, he repeats a request for, "High five!" excitedly, loudly, squeakily, on and on and on. Another is laughing, as you can see from his face, but it sounds like yelps of pain. A woman says, "Oh dear!" in a voice that conveys fear, also repeatedly, often with a little wail added on. In the kitchen there's a fairly mobile lad in a wheelchair who has unquenchable thirst and is starting to get angry as no one will make him yet another cup of tea. He's shouting,  and although I can't make out exactly what he's saying, the staff member in the kitchen can and is trying to reason with him, her voice rising to be heard over his. And behind all this Moulin Rouge is on the telly and that's a mad fucking film if ever there was one. I love the visuals until Jim Broadbent starts on the Like A Virgin bit - terrible, immediately triggers the most dreadful feelings of being at the mercy of predatory males - Jeez, that had me up and out of there in no time. Sigh.

And now it's got late again, so I'm off. Today I am grateful for: hearing from so many pals on here; a day out with a Real Life pal; my girl being happy in the care home even if it is often too much for me; my open fire, burning all evening with wood I've found on the beach; Dangerspouse giving me advice about transferring posts to diaryland.

Sleep tight, dear peeps xxx