My mum came to me in my dreams this morning. It is nearly 2 years since she died. She comes often in my dreams, sometimes they are good dreams but mostly they are bad. Sometimes she comes as the old lady wracked with anxiety and depression as she was as she drifted into dementia at the end of her life. At other times she is the firebrand she had been before then. I never got to the root of why mum was so angry. But that was who she was.
When the bad dreams with mum come it usually foretells a bad day. Today was the exception. I've had lovely day. I'm still tired but it was nice to do something different. I went out for roast beef with my friend Madeline at the Waggoners accompanied by an excellent French red. Then Adnams Broadside followed by a Doombar when I got home.
Now I have had tea, Paganini plays and I will have a quiet evening of music and reading. So glad I never had to play Paganini on the violin, it is so fiendishly difficult. As I said a few weeks ago I may have grade 8 in the violin but I really wasn't very good at it. I didn't do enough work.
A light supper of cheese, Parma ham and grapes will follow before I immerse myself back into Graham Greene. I have neglected my reading as I fight desperately to catch up on my academic work. But that can wait until tomorrow. More soon.
I Heard a Voice.
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