Well, that must have been summer then............

The blanket is finished. What possessed me to try to finish it on the hottest day of the year completely escapes me. I had definitely lost my mind there. I did take a couple of photos, but they are not stellar, because it is dark. The contrast in days is quite something. Today is grey and dark cool and the lights are on here in my soon to be ex study corner, and I am wearing a fleece. Yesterday clothes were an optional extra in the heat. But this is England after all, and the weather is not predictable. I will try taking a few when the sun comes out. If. Some day. Whenever.

I must remember to go and pay my phone bill. Memo to self: Do stuff. 

My day started with a visit to the doctor. Well, the nurse actually. For blood tests? Why? I asked. Just because it is AGES since they were last done. I come from the school of people who believe doctors should only be visited in dire emergencies. This is not a dire emergency. Sigh. Just leave me to poddle on through life (at a snail's pace) and I will be just fine. 

I was thinking, you know. This is supposed to be a blog where I document my days/memories/thoughts. And yet I write about approximately 2% of all that. It will be a very sketchy record. One hopes that by the time I am aged and weak and feeble, that I will remember the things I didn't write down. Maybe there will be words that trigger the unwritten memories. I hope so. 

I used to write down so much of what I was feeling or thinking and then a couple of years later, found the pages, and I was horrified. The whole lot went into the shredder. Files deleted. And so on. I came to the conclusion that I would never write down anything I wouldn't want my nearest and dearest to read if I keeled over and expired. Believe me, that means that the editing is ruthless. 

But the result is that that other 98% or me still needs a way to come out at times. Hmmm. A dilemma. 

This is where the garden, and the crocheting, the sewing and the craft things all come in - to take the place of the words. Some things I don't write about because it is more of the same. Who wants to read of pain? Regrets? Incapacity? Death and its consequences? Exactly. I don't want to write about it either. 

But this is my story and it is all a part of who I am, after all. The gym - well, I would rather hurt more after all the exercise and be able to blame the exertion instead of the CRPS. It makes me more normal, but believe me, it hurts. I know it will be good in the end, so I choose to battle through it. That doesn't make me a hero. It means I am pig-headed and determined. My friends will be nodding at this point. 

Then there is the list of priorities in one's life. I talked about this with my oldest friend yesterday - how it changes when you are alone. How things change. How people assume you will do things for them because there is just you, and no husband to consider. How being alone means that there are fewer invitations. How somehow, it is not as easy to prioritise even family. My children are grown. So who comes first? My kids - scattered about the globe? My Mum? My sister? My friends? No, she said - YOU have to come first. 

That is the problem, you see. It makes me feel selfish. It makes me feel wrong. It doesn't work. Real life makes it nigh on impossible. So prioritisng is a real issue here at the moment. 

How on earth did I end up prattling about this - I have no idea. 

Shall I tell you about some of my dreams? I dream of going to see my daughter in New Zealand. I dream of being in the Alps with my family. I dream of visiting America and Canada and meeting all my friends in real life, getting to know you all, and discovering the beauties you talk about. I dream of seeing the Aurora Borealis. I dream of going to one of the big conferences one day. I dream of times spent with people I have grown to love. I dream of Kelli getting her kidney and dancing round Trafalgar Square with me one day soon. 

I also dream of the day when the lilies in my garden are all in bloom. I dream of small things too. I dream of having a shoulder to lean on now and then. I dream of log cabins and fireplaces, and warmth, and laughter and fun. I dream of ....

Enough. I am depressing myself. The realities of life here at RCR mean that most of the dreams will remain dreams for now. But the beauty of dreams is that they never go away, do they. I can handle that. 

There was a perfect quote on Pinterest this morning. (What? You haven't discovered Pinterest yet? Google it, and settle down. You will be there a good few hours. So many ideas, and so much inspiration....) 

See? It is perfect for me, isn't it. I may be a snail, but I am still faster than some. So now I am abandoning feelings and dreams for the day and I am getting up and moving instead. I need to go and see if any more lilies are blooming..................

PS: Vee, it is an anemone. Just like I used to have in my garden in Cape Town. Soon there will be hundreds of them in the pot. They are all about to bloom, and I over planted. As usual!