I woke up early, a few minutes after six. Anything before six counts as night-time so at least I made it to morning - but with only five hours sleep. Whenever I plan to do something on a particular day, I wake early. Today I am having some poetry people over for lunch in Brighton. The flat is set up for uncomplicated cooking. I have prepared vegetarian chilli and coleslaw with dill dressing. Will make beetroot with chopped herbs, and saffron rice. Fruit crumble for dessert, I have used plums and added some brandy butter left over from Christmas.
I walked into Brighton town yesterday, thinking to do various errands all at once. I exchanged some Moroccan slippers (lumpy inside so not comfortable) for a kilim cusion cover that I will probably take back to Signs Cottage. I went to Waterstone's to pick up a book I had ordered: What To Look For In Winter by Candia McWilliam, highly recommended to me, and the ability to read and focus has improved somewhat. Hallelujah, even though I can't read anywhere near as much as I once did. At Waterstone's I thought I would have a coffee then do a food shop for today's lunch. PWME are familiar with the wall of exhaustion that one can run into. I could feel it coming (a tsunami wall) and tried to ignore it. Ridiculous, as was the notion that I could have got myself plus shopping up the steep incline. A taxi back from town is very cheap and makes this kind of excursion possible. Near the Clock Tower there is always a small line of taxis waiting. I took one. Brighton is kind in so many ways, and beautiful. The Brighton Waitrose, however, is not a good experience - nothing like the one I pictured here which is still more or less supermarket heaven. Bad muscles and malaise after, and what is sweetly referred to as "emotional lability" - one of the side-effects of neurological disorder. The image: a small boat in bad condition suddenly having to negotiate storm conditions; you look out and see nothing but a grey wall made of water that may at any moment engulf you. This was actually a real situation, on my return from Gozo via Malta about twenty years ago, returning from a wedding I should probably not have attended in the first place. The boat was a relic from the second world war and a small group of us nearly perished in the sea. But lived to tell the tale. As one does.
Outside, a brilliant blue sky today. Timely and welcome.