Sad and lonely

Yesterday, I was feeling sad and lonely. I walked to a coffee shop with my boss, who really is a very sweet man and I am lucky to count him amongst my friends. I could only describe what is bringing me down in the very loosest terms: there are limits to what can be shared with colleagues, even ones that are friends.

I’m missing home comforts; and I am missing talking with my husband. He doesn’t sleep in the same bed any more, even when I am home, but he did say that he would come in for a cuddle from time to time.

Tonight I will do more reading and maybe some more writing.

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Communing with spirits

I stopped at a shop on the way to Glastonbury. The person behind the counter said “cool T shirt”; I was wearing my non-binary “assume nothing” T. I was delighted that he got it – I guess we have each other some positive reinforcement!

I parked in my usual car park in the town, and walked up the Tor. It’s a beautiful walk through meadows and woodland.

There have been times when I have thought that nullo might be my destination, however the ability to have a wee behind a tree was welcome today!

I’m a lot less fit than I was a year ago; a year ago I was walking 4000m in the Himalayas – and not even out of breath. This little hill made me puff! It’s only a punt 158m above sea level!

The views from the top are magnificent. I have only been up here once before – with my first “boyfriend”: he was 57, I was 20. I should never have been with him. I have never been up the Tor with anybody else.

It was hot on the walk up the hill, the Tor sheltered me from the wind; however it was chill and windy at the top. I lay down on the dry grass, closed my eyes, and breathed and listened to the world in the bright sunshine.

I walked down the gentler slope of the Tor into the town (there are two approaches to the Tor’s summit: a steep way, which I took up, and a less steep way, which I took down).

In the town I went into almost every shop, just to inhale Glastonbury’s magic. Witch’s shops selling sage and cauldrons, spiritual shops selling oils and tarot cards, of course charity shops, and a shop that sold tongue drums.

This particular shop holds a happy memory of the last time I visited Glastonbury with my mum. We went into all the shops, just like today, but we admired the tongue drums and the beautiful sounds they make.

I sat on the floor and played on a beautiful purple drum.

Then I cried. Small happy sad tears.

The lady in the shop left me to it – I appreciated her giving me space. I wanted to tell her about it, but realised that she was deaf. The memory went unshared.

The first time I went to Glastonbury was with the church; my nan was sacristan and loved her church. She spent most days in the church – I always knew where to find her.

One year, while I was still in single figures, she and mum went to the Glastonbury Pilgrimage with the church; they took me along as well – I was really into religion when I was young. Many of the churches within a fifty-mile-or-so radius sent their vicars and representatives, all dressed in their finery. They paraded down the high street bearing the banner of their church’s particular saint.

I went into the abbey grounds (expensive, considering there’s only one building that still has a roof). I bathed in the beauty of the ruins and the gardens, where I walked barefooted on the soft grass. I lay down on the damp grass, closed my eyes, and listened to the wind in the trees and the birds singing.

I remembered a time long ago when my husband and I went to a concert given by Katherine Jenkins, the opera singer; she was magnificent. He says that she could turn him she’s that beautiful!

Afterwards, I had a cup of tea and a piece of cake in memory of my beloved mum and nan.

My husband sent me a couple of selfies he’d done it himself – he is a hottie! He always has been. It was touching that he sent them to me.