A beautiful afternoon yesterday, several hours of meandering, exploring, pausing to just be, hear, smell and feel. And sitting by the river as the water slowly and ceaselessly moves past. The river feels like a living being. It is the only place I feel at home and at ease these days, out there with the creatures, water and plants. I’m getting better at just being and nothing else. Gratitude is present out there.

Then my uncle and his partner wanted to show his French sailing friend my allotment and so we drank sparkling water and had light chat for an hour or two. In the morning I visited my friend’s mum with some food. We ate strawberry tarts and chatted, and I listened to the confused imaginings arising from dementia. It is hard watching decline at this stage. I don’t even know if my presence makes any difference. Afterwards she asked my friend who Susan is, and didn’t remember the visit.

And after that I visited the men on site. They are powering through the work at quite a pace. Slightly alarmed as I’ve allowed 12 weeks for it and we are only at the end of week 4. I am sure I can line up the next projects quite easily with the help of the Force. Though my cad technicians have been out of action, further adding to the delay. My designing system is wobbling a bit just now.

I felt a little disorientated with the men. Hardly know what to say in response to people out there. I notice some self consciousness, I don’t seem to have a definite point or place inside to be coming from. Don’t really have spontaneous replies. I notice I’m on automatic pilot and it feels a bit fake, like trying to remember an old script. “What should I say here to sound reasonable and sane and get through the interaction smoothly”. It’s uncomfortable.

Payroll is done and I’ve got a meeting with a friend in the park in a while. I’m kind of dreading that scripty side of me coming out. It’s harder to withstand with very old relationships I’ve found. Then meeting M in the park too.

Contemplating mortality in a gentle way after being around my mum, uncle and others from her generation. I sometimes want to ask them what that is like, knowing at nearly 80 that you have a limited time left. Then I realise that is us all, and it’s precious. Here we are on a globe hurtling though space.

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