Today looked good to start with. I had a cup of tea in my rose cup from Dorothey and wrote a list of good ideas. Started to work on them and some went smoothly like booking in for a pink slip at Biggs’ Garage.
Then everything seemed to twist around like a flicked snake and things began to go amiss. At least it looks like its gone amiss. The Manager of the Last Resort seems less keen to have me than the others do.
Kate and the Girls came and we ruthlessly culled my clothing. Kate is a lightning packer. I don’t know whether or not I have enough clothes left but, hey. Fresh Start, Lynne. Fresh Start.
I managed to pay the rent and the online shopping came. There were tears when the Girls were going home. The heartbreak of the little one is almost more than I can handle. I came inside and near vomited with sorrowing for all of us and all the plans we had which are not now going to come true.
I am meant to either dine out or do a meeting tonight. But I won’t. Izzy’s old boss is coming and bringing something from the Centre for me. And then I am thinking of pyjamas and dark night and bed.
I wish I could live in the little cottage in Brierfield near the Girls but its rented out.
Don’t use. Lower your standards , Lynne – as Roger said to me in the 1980s. If I don’t use today that is good enough.