Not much to say

I’m not blogging very much as I don’t have a lot to say right now.

Unless I’m doing something trivial, like a jigsaw, going to an auction ( I went to one with my ex yesterday as it seemed easier than staying at home)  etc, I don’t actually want to do anything. It all feels like such an effort. I know – it takes time, I need to be kind to myself and so on and so on, but I’ve had it with all that. I have to decide what I want to do from now on. I’m even thinking about giving up writing altogether. I’m fairly sure that’s just my mood talking but is it?

Everything and anything sends my emotions in a flat spin. 

Take yesterday. 

Last week I wrote to Mum’s GP to try and find out some of the medical background to see if I could argue against the care home fees, and discover why I was never allowed to register the EPA. Yesterday, I received a letter from Mum’s solicitor enclosing a letter from the GP. He’d written to them asking if there was a later will than the one I’d sent him a copy of. The solicitor had refused to answer, stating instead that they were passing his correspondence on to the executrix (ie me) but not telling the doctor who that was. It’s sheer bloody mindedness and so unnecessary. Now the doctor is off on annual leave so I face another wait. 

I’m sure that in normal circumstances I’d rise above all this pettiness, but I don’t have the strength at the moment.

In an hour, I have to go into Leeds to run a workshop. It’s baking hot, only 3 members of my writers club have signed up, and I would rather call the whole thing off, but I know that if I do that, my confidence may not return in time for Swanwick, and that’s something I really DON’T want to risk.