Good Grief 78

Occupational therapy
... best not to ask ....
This is the current distraction - it's not a resounding success but it keeps me quiet. It doesn't really matter what it is (and I am rubbish at it) but if I look back over the last few years there have been various little things, distractions, small obsessions ... things that just about manage to provide some focus for the day and help pull me through each one, keep my mind occupied and engaged in something, anything. They tend to be pretty random but have to feel moderately meaningful in the moment or else I haven't the wherewithal to bother. I know that for now there seems to be no way that I can work out of joining the dots but I try to generate some dots as best I can. Sometimes, as you can see, it gets a bit weird and I feel as though I have regressed to primary school. As I was doing this I remembered standing outside our classroom on a sunny day when I was probably about 5 or 6, with plastic aprons, water and containers ... playing. It all seems sadder, more solitary and more desperate now.

... oh, and the wine helps  (right of picture)