Well, I can’t be cheerful all the time. On Monday I finished my big report for the South West project, which was one good thing, and went out to a meeting about next year’s GDA one act play festival. Somehow I’m on the committee; I must stop volunteering for things.
On Tuesday I worked at the hospital, which usually makes me feel good because the people I work with are amazing. But this week, my friend, the lovely Pat, told me she is not only leaving the hospital but moving away to Devon. I’m really pleased that she is doing what she wants, but I’ll miss her, and so will a lot of other people.
In the afternoon I finished a book of poems and pieces written by me and a member of staff at the prison – another job ticked off the list – and wrote the minutes for last week’s steering group meeting. Tick.
Wednesday was nearly all prison stuff, with a bit of light relief making a cake for The Bloke, and Thursday was the prison, as usual. We had a new man in the writing group; he seemed to settle in quite well. One of the guys, who had by his own admission only written doggerel before, produced a stunning poem which he said had taken him five days to write. It was a real achievement for him. In the evening we went to the Bristol Balloon Fiesta. Although the balloons didn’t take off – it was too windy – they did a display, inflating them and lighting them up in time to some music. It was pretty spectacular! Getting home was a bit of a trial, though, because we had come in someone else’s car; we didn’t know the number; the car park must have had several hundred cars in it, and this chap’s car was dusk colour. Hmm. We finally found it, and him, and then waited to get out of the car park. Never mind, though – it was a good evening; one of those experiences of life that are so important.
Friday – hospital in the morning, working with two lovely, brave women; prep; writeups; spreadsheets; changes to my North West project report; ironing. Just an ordinary day.
Yesterday The Son was home, and we talked about the possibility of his buying a flat. When you’re a bit older, you just seem to know about mortgages and that sort of thing, but of course you don’t when you’re just starting off, and we had a lot to talk about; further discussions today. And I had a nice shopping trip with The Bloke.
And today I finally heard about the Dorset job. I haven’t got it. I was a very close second. Oh dear. I’m still waiting to hear about the other job I’ve applied for; they said I would know by the end of last week if I had an interview, but I haven’t heard anything yet. Oh dear, again.
There is so much to do, with work and my house, and balancing this with important relationships is not easy. The fact that my boiler isn’t working, and I have hardly any hot water, doesn’t help. I’m sure I’ll feel better tomorrow, but just now, at this moment, I’m feeling a bit down.