She was quite animated on the phone yesterday afternoon. He makes her laugh and vice versa. They share a similar sense of humour. I listen to the two of them as I prepare supper, sometimes chipping in with questions but mostly I like to hear the two of them reminiscing or just getting closer, it is enough, that. She told us she went to Chair Ballet yesterday. Apparently there were a dozen or so there. Many fell asleep, as is there wont. The music was courtesy of Tchiakovsky’s Swan Lake and another ballet called Pineapple Poll, which I vaguely know about. Was it by Stravinsky? I ask her. It might have been, she says. She told us that they have to sit quite far apart so that when they wave their arms about they don’t whack someone in the face. The voice from the video isn’t an American one, but ‘a posh English one.’ This activity was followed by a meditation. There were images and sounds of the sea lapping, she said, adding, I thought it was a bit rubbish. I mean, who wants to be told when to relax? A no-nonsense woman, like her mother, there’s no queasy sentiment to her, it probably stands her in good stead if one looks at what her life has become. She has backbone. How I like her.
