[Retrospectively written - copied from handwritten diary]
Went to the men's group on Monday. The 'Group' consisted of Mark the facilitator, Kevin and myself. Both Kevin and myself were first-timers so, in our absence, Mark would have spent 2 hours talking to himself.
We drank coffee and talked about random shit the whole time. So, naturally I was fidgety at times, not being one for small talk. I consider it a waste of time unless accompanied by copious amounts of alcohol (I'm practically teetotal these days) or other brain bending drugs. Still, it got me out of the house and interacting with other members of the human race. Don't know what Kevin's story was, nor he mine but as he was of similar age to me and reliant on a walking stick one can hypothesise that nature's spite or an accident have brought physical impediments that vex his mind.
There was mention of an organised fishing trip in the future, subject to interest and of guests attending the sessions to talk on various topics. I'll probably give it another go next month but wouldn't be at all surprised if I were the only attendee.
Whilst there I saw and spoke to Scotty, an acquaintance of mine and friend of Dianne's and introduced myself to Pinky. Dianne had described him as having a penchant for pink but "he's not gay" as if it mattered. I can concur with both statements. Turns out his real name is Dave, he's there every day, carves wood on Tuesdays and would be celebrating his birthday yesterday.
On Wednesday I discovered through a misdialled call from Scotty's partner that she'd managed to impale herself on barbed wire Tuesday night and ended up under the surgeon's knife to clean out some debris from the deep abdominal wound she'd sustained. She was back home yesterday, so Dianne visited with some of her favourite salmon pate and crusty bread.
As I had a couple of Ebay sales to mail, I ventured out this morning and made the customary trip to the beach. I wasn't there long as I couldn't be sure of the whereabouts of my mobile phone and it was causing me some unwarranted angst. It was either left at the Post Office or at home, either way in safe keeping. I walked fairly briskly one and a half breakers along the shore, finding a few interesting pebbles along the way and spotted a marooned jellyfish on the shingle bank. Another was found on my last visit. Until this week I don't recall ever seeing one at Caister. I imagine that this uncommonly warm summer we're having has raised sea temperatures sufficiently for them to migrate further North than is usual. I recollect as a child in 1977 (I think that was the heatwave summer and Elvis's last) swimming in the sea at Hunstanton and the waters were full of them.
On the way back to the car I managed to collect a couple of small pieces of driftwood that Dianne had requested for some kind of sea-art project she means to undertake. It also involves shells, twine and stones apparently. The mind boggles!
Been feeling quite off colour all week. I think a virus took hold last Saturday when my whole body felt tired and achy. These symptoms persisted for a couple of days and a bloodshot eye developed. The weeping eye remains and today I have the symptoms of a head cold with sneezing, a runny snout and that clawing irritation you get at the back of the nasal passage that extends down into the throat. Hate summer colds. Particularly this year as the glorious weather is just beginning to become unsettled, signalling it's intent to draw the curtain on the warm season and usher in Autumn. Want to enjoy what's left of it, please!
It's been a frustrating week generally. I don't feel as if I've moved forward at all and I'm probably correct. Looking at the positives, I suppose I've had some social interaction, added a few necklaces to Etsy, made contact with the Principal at First Move Furnishaid with a view to volunteering and....and....Oh! domestic relations have improved slightly and I've sent off a self-referral application to MIND that arrived in the mail a couple of days ago.
I know there was more to put down here but my mind has misplaced it for the time being. I'm sure when I was young I had total recall of events and thoughts which could be dragged out when needed. These days memory seems to be a skeleton of ideas and happenings, left thus to be filled with reasonable logic or guesswork. Or, maybe it's the conscious becoming tired and lazy and leaving all the hard work to the sub-conscious. [not sure this makes sense to me now]. My conscious would like to know the answer to this but the research would be a bit of a brainache and it really can't be bothered.
I ought to be writing this on my blog but I still prefer pen and paper. Perhaps I'll write the blog retrospectively. If you're reading this online, the decision was made and acted upon.
