Night of the long knives,
stabbing into self-esteem
Tried and found guilty
Early to bed, early to rise, makes a woman PANIC! Only 6.25am, but given that I went to bed at the same time as Lily, at 9.45, I’ve dunsleepin’ so should leap out of bed, rejoicing at having an extra hour to Do something in. But what? Indulge in one of my non-existent hobbies? Yoga? Urgh. Meditation? Urgh. A dawn walk? Waaaa. Would love to be someone who does dawn walk for pure enjoyment of dawn walk (plus thigh-toning exercise) but this morning the idea of it makes me feel desolate. No Dusty. Part of my love of walking is sharing it with her, the simple, pure pleasure of her enjoyment. Plus strategising to avoid sheep, using my ingenuity to cross fences (oh yes, I've had Dusty tightroping logs), exploring new territory, navigating back to where we started. I now realise our walks were not just a physical but a brain workout. Walking seems pointless without her. Lonely, anyway. Intimidating, even, when it comes to new territory forged alone.
A little part of me is saying: no dog, less dirt and hair; no dog, freedom to winter in
Asia. But the growing realisation of impending no dog is a wave of bleakness. At 50, I am suffering from premature bereavement of a partner coupled with premature empty-nest syndrome. The little voice in my head is getting louder: Get a job. Get A Job. GET A JOB, WOMAN!
Or go to