January 28 Where can I get help during the power cuts?

 She works the flecks of mud into the shagpile with her foot, her guilty dog looking on waiting to be fed, tail wagging, marking the curtain. The bed was made, in a way, most of the sheets were covered by a mound of duvet and the previous few days clothing, worn so not hung back up, but clean enough not to be thrown in the washing basket.

It’s only Tuesday.

Leaving the fish fingers till tomorrow she makes poached egg and avocado on toast, but the egg is stringy and watery, and the toast is burnt on the edge. Another five hours to go before bed. She scrapes the plate and rests it on the side, for later.

A bottle of vitamins sits on the table, vitamin D, for bone health, the label claims they help the maintenance of the body. Even language is getting further away now, time seems to be endless, each minute another to get through, a mark on the wall.

When the list of things to do is longer than the list of things you want to do, then you know you are awake.

Outside someone is shouting, or maybe it’s something else, another sound, maybe not outside, unless it’s right in front of her face it can be anything at all. Thank God she’s getting older, imagine being young in these days.

She pulls on her woolly hat, it hugs her head, feeling it press her ears inwards cushioning, self-stimulating. The dog has the lead in his mouth and sits on her foot, he’s eager to go out and she wants to be on a mountain side, not a suburban side street, but the weight of his foot on hers provides warmth, the lights are turning green, when she opens the door the air will rush into her nostrils and make her eyes water.

If there were puddles, she’d jump them, if there were puddles, maybe she’d drown.

It’s Tuesday evening outside, almost halfway through the week, the clouds up above might be dark but she’s walking on, not drowning, but singing.