I've just got back from a week's holiday in Nerja with my friend Jayne who has an apartment there. It was relaxing. We slept ate, slept read and slept again. I thought the bright sunshine would make me feel better which it did, but on returning my spirits began to tumble.
Dan welcomed me with a bunch of roses and carnations, claret red, bought for Valentine's day and two beautiful salmon pink M & S tops. He's such a darling.
I had the most awful dream last night: I was on holiday with a friend - I was holding up a shop with a shotgun - I was in court for shoplifting - I was sitting before a row of Magistrates - they sentenced me to life - I was on a podium pleading with President Bush for my release. All through the dream I was crying. Sobbing my heart out. Because I take anti-depressants I am unable to cry normally. I don't know why. They must dampen down my emotions. The only time I shed tears now is in my dreams.
Copyright © 2007 Barbara Attwood
Sunday, 18 February 2007
Saturday, 3 February 2007
Girls' Night
Last night I sat chatting to friends over veggie lasagne and copious amounts of wine. I was asked about how Kathryn’s wedding plans were progressing.
“Why didn’t she postpone the wedding until after Jon’s release in November?” someone asked the stabbing question.
Taking a deep breath, I replied, “When we last visited him, he told us not to plan any big parties or anything special for his release, as it will take him a while to adjust to being on the outside. He will have been in prison for nearly six years when he’s released. If he came to the wedding he’d be the centre of attention and I don’t know if he could handle that.”
“Of course.”
“Yes.”
“It’ll be difficult for him.”
“It’ll be difficult for you all.”
“Is he going to come back to England?”
“Yes, he’ll be deported, so he has no choice.”
Is he going to live with you?”
“Yes, for a while. We’ve got the extension ready for him. I can’t wait to have him home, but it’s scary, very scary,” I reflected sadly.“We’ve told him that we’re going to make him an orange suit, put bars on the windows and not let him out, but he can have his computer so he can type up his own blogs,” I said trying to be cheerful.
“I’ve been reading the blogs and really liked the ones about your visit last October, but it was sad that he didn’t get the parole.”
“Yes, it was, but we got over it," I said not wanting to relate the whole sorry tale. "He looked great. He'd put weight on. He was very positive. He talked a lot about his release in November, that’s what he talked about most.
“What’s he going to do?”
“Be a writer.”
The women were warm and friendly but at times I felt myself separate from them, somehow apart, as though I was an onlooker at the meal, watching and listening. As though they had nothing to do with me.
For a while now I’ve felt myself slipping, slipping into a depression that I need to rescue myself from.
Copyright © 2007 Barbara Attwood
“Why didn’t she postpone the wedding until after Jon’s release in November?” someone asked the stabbing question.
Taking a deep breath, I replied, “When we last visited him, he told us not to plan any big parties or anything special for his release, as it will take him a while to adjust to being on the outside. He will have been in prison for nearly six years when he’s released. If he came to the wedding he’d be the centre of attention and I don’t know if he could handle that.”
“Of course.”
“Yes.”
“It’ll be difficult for him.”
“It’ll be difficult for you all.”
“Is he going to come back to England?”
“Yes, he’ll be deported, so he has no choice.”
Is he going to live with you?”
“Yes, for a while. We’ve got the extension ready for him. I can’t wait to have him home, but it’s scary, very scary,” I reflected sadly.“We’ve told him that we’re going to make him an orange suit, put bars on the windows and not let him out, but he can have his computer so he can type up his own blogs,” I said trying to be cheerful.
“I’ve been reading the blogs and really liked the ones about your visit last October, but it was sad that he didn’t get the parole.”
“Yes, it was, but we got over it," I said not wanting to relate the whole sorry tale. "He looked great. He'd put weight on. He was very positive. He talked a lot about his release in November, that’s what he talked about most.
“What’s he going to do?”
“Be a writer.”
The women were warm and friendly but at times I felt myself separate from them, somehow apart, as though I was an onlooker at the meal, watching and listening. As though they had nothing to do with me.
For a while now I’ve felt myself slipping, slipping into a depression that I need to rescue myself from.
Copyright © 2007 Barbara Attwood
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