There a few women of my acquaintance, mostly widows, who show an almost heroic stoicism in their keeping going, particularly during these Covid-19 battered months. They are remarkable for their fortitude and quiet resilience. I am humbled by them.
I often look up at lighted windows as I walk. This morning it was one on Chalybeate Street. I’d seen a man quit the flat a little earlier. I looked up and could see a row of still wrapped bouquets of flowers and the ceiling of the room was full of balloons that had clearly floated up there and stuck.
Huge petrified remains of trees still lie on South Beach, one (mostly roots) looked like a giant spider.
The whiteness of the road and footpath I mentioned yesterday must be so because of the salt. I saw the salt-spreading truck this morning ambling its way down the Prom.
An interview to do today. I’m excited about talking to her. She is an extraordinary woman.