A rebel without a clue.

Lola, what a good girl! She stayed in her bed until at least 5, climbed in besides me until 6:30 and waited quite happily for me to prepare her breakfast at 7, once we decamped and meandered downstairs. That dog doesn't mind her own space for 7 hours as long as I am directly alongside her - within touching distance. Mum needs to purchase a futon bed, a 4 foot one, to put in that room so we can always be alongside each other, but she simply won't. *** Reading a fantastic, and fairly comprehensive, summary of Cornwall - Vanishing Cornwall by Daphne du Maurier - in the Mews last night I realized how busy it was in the bar area. At around four thirty I moved out of that space and continued reading further into the restaurant area. It seems that the same dozen or so faces that frequent here every day. These people are fine, but I need so much more! I really need my mother to get a new knee so soon so I can possibly pick up where I left off in February 2020?

Good morning... What am I thinking about? Being good at just one thing... With Lola, snuggled alongside me on the sofa, I know I've become good with her. A pureness reflects in our relationship. Although I don't know what Lola ever is thinking, if she operates like that, there are ways of knowing I am doing well by her. But I am also good at putting one foot in front of the other, but I am also great at pouring one pint after another down my throat without considering the long-term consequences of the dedication. Dedicating this one year, in its many moments, to not putting that erroneous being into action may help me escape the zombiefacation of my soul. But all I want to do now is go - move onwards (being held back for ten years by mental health issues is so futile). And the last two years of being told what to do, constantly, by everyone and everything has destroyed the momentum which was snowballing prior to Lockdown. Walking for charity has ceased. Walking for sanity has v...