A quick post tonight to keep up with the challenge. I still have some work to finish, and the washing up will not take care of itself.
We had our poetry group meeting in the library. It could be a play. One of the members is very definitely on the autistic spectrum, and tonight he was on speed dial. Celia was placating and calming with regular interjections of “Right, right” delivered in a firm but calming tone. I think he might have had a caffeine boost or similar this afternoon, but last month he was much more connected.
Viv was mildly subversive, and made me think she was probably quite naughty at school in ways she could get away with.
It was fun. I picked a few Simon Armitage volumes at random from the library shelves. One, Seeing Stars, turned out not to be poetry, but short stories and monologues. The first I looked at began:
During the summer of 1996 I was working as a Tattooist-in-Residence on a reclaimed slagheap in the South Pennines.
I managed to persuade the group to let me read Aviators. Believe me, it’s worth reading. Just click and enjoy. I’ve borrowed the book to read at home and give me some light relief from We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves, where I am becoming increasingly anxious about Fern.
This post is already about three times longer than I intended, so it’s time to sign off, don the rubber gloves and get the work done.
Hasta mañana, y feliz sueños.