Wake early, as I have to take the car into the garage. Entire Today programme appears to be eating itself; BBC reporting on BBC. Wonder if it is wrong that I have little interest in BBC row. Think to self: someone made mistakes; someone should fix mistakes; someone should apologise; someone should make appropriate restitution; world could move on. Or is that too naive? Over-riding sentiment is: love dear old Auntie, and hate to see her flagellating herself.
Muck out car. Feel purposeful and proper. Today shall be a day of getting things done. Removing any old rubbish from the motor is a good metaphorical and literal start.
Then find dog’s collar and break down in tears.
Pull self together. Take car to garage. Do horses. New quarters white with frost and gilded with winter sun. Mercury hovering at minus two. Soothing equine love.
Work. Fairly good, useful work. Fingers a bit crabbed and out of practice; brain creaking slightly; but there is something where there was nothing.
Discover absolute incapacity to decide what to eat for lunch.
Eat bread and cheese.
Glorious sun buggers off and is replaced by sulky rain. Try not to let spirits slip.
To generate internal sunshine, have huge bet on 2.25 at Carlisle. The delightful Across The Bay streams over his fence and wins in a TROT. Excellent corrective to brown skies and drowned trees outside my window.
Have to call Tebay to book room for Friday night. Fatal mistake. Very kind Cumbrian lady says: ‘And are you bringing your dog?’
‘No,’ I say. ‘She is gone.’
‘Oh, I am so sorry,’ says the kind lady. She really means it.
Put telephone back in its cradle. Break down into tears.
Make list of things that must be done tomorrow. Do admin. Send emails. Contemplate the making of a soothing evening soup. Speak to mother. Feel quite tired. Thoughts turn to blog. Really don’t know what I am going to tell them today, I think, brain entirely clear of useful thought. In the end, decide on this.
An ordinary day: two cries, one winner, clean car, reasonsable work, some small intimations of normality. Just a day, like any other.
Missed the early sun, and everything now too murky for beauty, so here is some light from the last few days:
Best Beloved, sorely missed:
Hill, from yesterday: