This afternoon while a feisty wind blows the plastic chairs around the garden I sit at the kitchen table with Robin. He's had a busy day without me. My cup of tea is Earl Grey in a china mug. Robin's is Roibosh in a plastic beaker raised up on a stack of CDs so he doesnt' have to bend this head too far to reach the straw. I'm feeding him a delicious moist cup cake made with cooked quinoa and raisins - a gift from our healer friend.
It's rare for us to sit together now and have a cup of tea - I'm usually doing ten other things between his mouthfuls of cake. But this afternoon, after huge baked potato lunch and lovely catch up with my sister and my cousin's partner in Taunton, I come to a full stop.
I feel too tired to even keep my head up. I rest it in my hands and cry a bit and tell Robin I'm very tired.
He asks,
Any particular reason?
Too much to do. And I go to bed too late.
I'm sorry - I'm screwing up your life. I don't want to do that.
It's not your fault. And everything is a bit much when I'm this tired.
So we won't go out now?
Only to deliver a letter to the place where you are going to go for a week. To have a holiday so that I can have a holiday too.
He gives me a look. Yesterday he said it was going to prison. Well it's a 5 star luxury prison then.
And we need some bananas from Morrisons.
I notice that I have no free attention now for anything like art or music or ideas or opinions or things of the world or spiritual things. I tried to read the Guardian on Saturday and couldn't get further than a headline or two .....as if there's no room in my head for anything except things like must buy more bananas.
As I write this Robin's slippers are spinning in the washing machine. Best not to know why. Bit of a last straw tonight.
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