I can’t do it any more. I simply cannot go anywhere at the drop of a hat. One day in January of 1987, I met my usual friends at the match. I don’t remember the result but Pete said:
“We’re going to see our kid straight after, do you want to come?” It was a great idea; straight over to Bradford after the game for a jolly night in the Robin Hood in Yeadon. Toothbrush? No. Change of clothes? No. But I had money in my pocket. The eighties was full of snap decisions.
I don’t know if I’d want to be like that now but I wish I could. It’s partly old-age but mostly due to the MS beast.
Today is a nothing day. As usual I got up on the same day as I went to bed as opposed to going to bed on the same day I got up. At ten thirty, I emerged from the pit in the curtain shaded half light. The biggest to do is to open the bedroom curtains. After throwing on some clothes, I shuffle across the bed and complete my operation with the assistance of my long grabber. The cat simultaneously uses my arm to scratch his chin.
Then it’s into the living room to face the carnage. I’d left a loaf proving; it was now a pancake. It was rescued into some form of brick shape. I found a bowlful of ingredients in the fridge for a beef rendang. But the highlight of the morning was finding my notebook. Oh my sweet friend of organised reassurance. Linus has his blanket, Garfield has Pookie Bear and I have my notebook.
How can something so seemingly small and inconsequential have me desperately scrabbling around the flat in the middle of the night making the little fretting squeaks of a hamster with a rusty wheel? I have plenty of notebooks. They will all be used and loved but one at a time please. I knew that if I started a new book, the old one would magically appear. But for once, I wanted to dictate my own fortune. The notebook has three uses. I use it to plan the day and as a sort of journal. Most importantly however, in an attempt to show myself that I can find some comfort in the satisfaction of improvement, I have made overtures to improve my handwriting. It’s very important to me.