Dear Diary, If things need doing, 'tis best to do them fast! Maybe that is not the exact quote my Father used, but very close to it. Not that he ever decided a course of action quickly. It was his way to think, consider, think again, and then and only then, if the idea appeared to be suitable for the occasion, he acted. The fact that some of these actions took place months, or even years later was beside the point. A lesson told is a lesson learned.
Well things needed doing. Arrangements needed making. Actions were taken.
Dear Diary, here I am at the seaside home of my friend Anne, who was delighted to have me share her life for a time. At the moment no time limit has been placed on my visit; Anne is indeed a dear friend who understands the necessity I felt for getting away from the shambles at Niece's place.
I am too old to listen to ramblings of a pregnant girl, the rantings of the man who made her pregnant, and the fussing of the mother and her husband. Too much of a good thing!
In my naive innocence I blithely assumed the news of a pregnancy for a young couple, albeit unmarried, but promised, should be exciting and that planning for the arrival would fill the days with pleasure. Dear Diary, I am a fool, an old fool of a woman! Though deep inside I still feel my naive idea is how it should be. This poor child who will be born into a reasonably wealthy family, and therefore not poor in the normal expression of the word, will need to earn a place in the hearts of the parents. Unless of course, common sense rules.
Deciding upon a little subterfuge I announced I was cycling to the shop for the morning paper and disregarded Hester's astonished stare. No doubt she wondered why I needed a newspaper when one was delivered daily to the house. Each morning a cheerful lad tossed a plastic wrapped newspaper onto the lawn, often missing the garden, and sometimes even missing the property; instead loping it into the neighbour's tall tree that overhung our boundary fence. I had no desire to purchase a newspaper. I simply needed to use the public telephone box and blurt my troubles into Anne's sympathetic ear. Halfway through my tale Anne broke in with a suggestion; the suggestion I fervently wished for. And Dear Diary, here I am, at Anne's where life is calm.
Travelling down in the coach I peered out the smudgy window, though the scenery outside that window remained a mystery for much of the journey. My mind was not on the journey; my mind was not on the journey. Tumultuous thoughts tumbled through my mind; and for a moment Dear Diary, I feared for my sanity.
Once I arrived at the seaside Anne's cheerful presence immediately calmed my anxiety. A welcome cup of coffee combined with ham and mustard sandwiches helped ease my apprehension. Gradually a feeling of peace flowed over me, as I relaxed in quiet company. Dear Diary, I am here for I know not how long, but Dear Diary, already I am appreciating the absence of turmoil.
Well things needed doing. Arrangements needed making. Actions were taken.
Dear Diary, here I am at the seaside home of my friend Anne, who was delighted to have me share her life for a time. At the moment no time limit has been placed on my visit; Anne is indeed a dear friend who understands the necessity I felt for getting away from the shambles at Niece's place.
I am too old to listen to ramblings of a pregnant girl, the rantings of the man who made her pregnant, and the fussing of the mother and her husband. Too much of a good thing!
In my naive innocence I blithely assumed the news of a pregnancy for a young couple, albeit unmarried, but promised, should be exciting and that planning for the arrival would fill the days with pleasure. Dear Diary, I am a fool, an old fool of a woman! Though deep inside I still feel my naive idea is how it should be. This poor child who will be born into a reasonably wealthy family, and therefore not poor in the normal expression of the word, will need to earn a place in the hearts of the parents. Unless of course, common sense rules.
Deciding upon a little subterfuge I announced I was cycling to the shop for the morning paper and disregarded Hester's astonished stare. No doubt she wondered why I needed a newspaper when one was delivered daily to the house. Each morning a cheerful lad tossed a plastic wrapped newspaper onto the lawn, often missing the garden, and sometimes even missing the property; instead loping it into the neighbour's tall tree that overhung our boundary fence. I had no desire to purchase a newspaper. I simply needed to use the public telephone box and blurt my troubles into Anne's sympathetic ear. Halfway through my tale Anne broke in with a suggestion; the suggestion I fervently wished for. And Dear Diary, here I am, at Anne's where life is calm.
Travelling down in the coach I peered out the smudgy window, though the scenery outside that window remained a mystery for much of the journey. My mind was not on the journey; my mind was not on the journey. Tumultuous thoughts tumbled through my mind; and for a moment Dear Diary, I feared for my sanity.
Once I arrived at the seaside Anne's cheerful presence immediately calmed my anxiety. A welcome cup of coffee combined with ham and mustard sandwiches helped ease my apprehension. Gradually a feeling of peace flowed over me, as I relaxed in quiet company. Dear Diary, I am here for I know not how long, but Dear Diary, already I am appreciating the absence of turmoil.
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