I woke up feeling dead ... whatever that might feel like ... a completely contradictory expression if ever there was one.
It is, of course a state of mind and all those filters that queue up and fall over each other as they pile into my mind as it emerges out of a restless sleep. They penetrate the slowly dispersing fog into the realm of something resembling consciousness. A disorientation of the attrition of exhaustion, the inescapable course of time and inevitability of looming anniversaries.

I thought I’d have the measure of them by now.

I’m writing this tomorrow (Sunday). Once I’d got over my ‘death’ yesterday I did okay with a mix of work catch up and a dreamy afternoon walk. I wondered about scattering ashes up there again especially as it was one the last places that he worked on a painting of. It was a half hearted thought as I’m more inclined to the idea of being scattered together...if there’s anyone around to scatter me when it comes to it.

Today though was just a gathering storm of agitation. Like a shaken bottle of lucozade I was beside myself so I just decided to drive out to my friend’s and the process of driving and listening to Desert Island Discs were both calming. We chatted over coffee, wandered round the village and the garden and then I headed back home. I was still absurdly tearful so went for a walk in the evening between showers.