Sorry – I’m afraid that death still figures heavily this week. On Monday I spent a lot of time on stupid arrangements for a poet with a difficult agent, and wrote up the stuff from my young people’s groups in Hereford. Then a good session with my GP surgery group, who excel themselves each week, and straight to an unusual gig. This was in memory of my friend Richard; his family had taken over The Roses theatre for an evening of entertainment – Richard’s last gig. He had worked with loads of people as a musician, besides being heavily involved in amateur drama, which is how I knew him. I was asked to do a couple of poems. It was a bit scary, because most people there were there for the music, but it all went well, and it was an evening he would have enjoyed a lot.
On Tuesday The Daughter came home, and we headed off to collect The Son, and thence to London for Aunt Audrey’s funeral. She knew a lot of people too, and most of the people at the funeral were unknown to me. It all started very seriously (not surprising, for a funeral) and I was a little worried about doing my tribute, which was, I hoped, funny. But again, it all went well; several people, including one of Audrey’s oldest friends, were complimentary and said that she would have enjoyed it, which is what I had aimed for. My cousin, Audrey’s son, did an excellent tribute too. It was kind of ok that my kids and I had a laugh on the way there and back; Audrey was never one for great seriousness.
I was tired when we got back, but did the GP surgery write-up. On Wednesday I did a lot of prison stuff, and gathered up all the leaves on the patio. I have a lovely Virginia creeper which is glorious for a short period, but then of course drops all its leaves to make a soggy mass, so that was a good job done. I defrosted the fridge / freezer – probably my least favourite household job, and spent some time on my new poetry project.
Thursday was the prison. We had a photographer in to take photos of me working with my group, and he was excellent – not disruptive at all, as some photographers can be. The group all worked hard, and in the afternoon I got a lot of prep done for a visitor to the prison next week. I got it all written up in the evening.
On Friday I was in the hospital, where I met a lovely, inspirational woman, who knows she will die of cancer; she can’t do anything about that, she said, but what she can do is choose to live well for the remainder of her life – wisely, generously, graciously, lovingly, gently, thankfully, joyfully and peacefully. Wow. I feel humbled when I meet people like this.
The Son was home for much of the day, and we worked companionably in between chatting – I did the hospital writeup and an invoice, and prep for my GP group, and wrote some stuff for the Writers in Prison website. After The Son had gone, I worked out all the changes that need to be made to my website and sent them to him. Soon I’ll be able to make changes myself, which will be useful.
The Bloke wasn’t feeling well (man flu!) so we had a quiet weekend; lots more prison stuff done. I seem to be spending far too much time on prison stuff at the moment, and I will really have to cut down.
But – this week I feel grateful to be alive; despite the weather and my dislike of the short days, and my petty worries about getting everything done.