Ah, it's that day again

lots of random thoughts interspersed with micro-sleeps ...

listening to Nico on youtube ... desertshore etc.

reading Yeats with tears ...

Though I am old with wandering

Through hollow lands and hilly lands,

I will find out where she has gone,

And kiss her lips and take her hands;

And walk among long dappled grass,

And pluck till time and times are done

The silver apples of the moon,

The golden apples of the sun.

Barbara's passing has brought about change in me. Mis-quoting Yeats, the centre cannot hold ... the stiff upper lip is no more and tears come as gentle rain whenever some sadness arises.

Yet, I do not think I am melancholic ... I have just given up a little more hiding.

It is now February, late Winter, a season of dashed hopes as days draw out only to be denied by bitter northerly winds. Spring will come, but not yet.

I copied the photos of Amy onto a disc a few days ago so I can, if I decide to, send them to Lisa. Somehow, I doubt I shall ... the pain is too deep.

On a practical theme, the cost of supporting Barbara in her last years, which was given freely, means that I should tighten my belt, but for what? That would only make me mean-spirited, and so I shall continue to live as I have done for the time that is given me.