Drawing has taken over, and I miss not having the time to write this journal each day. It’s a gentle pursuit and one in which I can freefall a little.
We were in the coffee shop again yesterday. Sundays are never the same as the weekdays. They are frenetic and full of strangers. Well, mostly. The ex-butcher and the ex-nurse were in, pretending not to wish us gone so that they could have our table. I tried to be more charitable towards them. I do like them. They ooze cosiness and uncomplicated-ness. I asked him about his health. He has lots of things wrong bless him. A gently bovine man (hard to imagine him hacking away at some poor animal’s carcass) he told me it all (not that I was able to understand most of it). She clearly looks after everything for him. They used to be childhood sweethearts but married other people before finding each other after the death of his wife and her divorce. Nice. I asked him where they lived (feeling sure that he had told me before). On the Waun, he said, it’s a little estate of bungalows. Yes. Perfect. I felt a warmth of such love for them yesterday.
I must try to be kinder.
