At times like this it's easy to lose track of days and dates. Not looking at my work diary gets me out of sync. Just as I finished writing my post yesterday I realised it was the 28th. That is mum's anniversary. It was on my mind but I had the feeling it fell on Sunday. Rather than posting again after I thought I would wait until today. Eight years, so what to say? I guess probably it is good she is not here to witness this world as it is. Her anxiety would have gone through the roof. I listened to Faure and Durufle last night and reflected.
We are all getting older. Time is flying until I turn 51. Will I be back at work then? I do hope so. That said I'm managing well and my anxiety is not here anymore.
People here seem to be adhering to the stipulations in times of crisis. I haven't been for my walk yet. It has been a cold and windy day and the whisper on the grapevine is that we saw snow today.
I'm managing to keep going but I cannot get chicken for love nor money. Fish too is hard to come by but that is not a great hardship for me. I miss my prawns though. Today there is slow roast belly pork on the menu. It smells marvellous.
The afternoon was spent as usual with an opera and the paper. My old friend Figaro dazzled me as the time slipped. The sun is out but will soon be disappearing. The clocks went forward so I lost an hour of sleep and it will be light much later. Classic FM is honouring the conductor Karajan so I get the glories of Verdi opera.
In the morning I will go back to work. Nothing is scheduled in so finally a chance to make headway with the waiting list. We never had one when I worked alone. But then again I was working far too hard. That stress is not with me now. Long may that continue.
See you in the week.
I Heard a Voice
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