Chilli flower

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I must be some kind of psychic plant whisperer or something, because despite my wanton physical neglect of the poor thing, the chilli plant I bought a few weeks ago is wildly flowering. Which to be fair, wasn’t a bad strategy for attracting my attention: the weather has closed in again, and I’m fast running out of subjects. After I’d taken its photo I put it outside in the rain with the anemones and French lavender to get some fresh air and a bit of a wash.

I realised today that I was going to have to take care of myself a little better than I have over the past couple of days, if I’m going to make it through this crisis in reasonable shape. So I did some meditation; then I walked twice round the village in the rain (more beneficial than enjoyable, that one, with water running down my face and soaking into the neck of my jumper); and then I selected a book from my tottering pile of unread stuff, sat in a different chair to the one I use for processing photos, on line shopping, and being snarky with idiots on Twitter, and immersed myself in someone else’s world for an hour.

I’ve also been listening to quite a lot of music, though I haven’t yet managed to summon the will to follow the Choraline advice to keep singing – I know that it’s a very positive thing to do though, so I will try to add it into my self-care routine. This evening I had to drive over to Chipping Campden to hand in my Choir One music and receive a refund for R’s ticket for the cancelled concert, and chatting to the admins brought home how sad I am that we won’t be making music together in the foreseeable future. As we wished each other good luck and farewell, I experienced a genuine frisson of fear that life may never return to what I’m accustomed to thinking of as normal – but that’s the fast track to hysteria, so I put the thought in a box and firmly shut the lid on it.

I’m now praying to several gods that I don’t believe in for the weather to improve soon. If we’re marooned in this sodden trench for much longer, I may well get the chance to photograph R re-enacting The Scream.

Currently reading: The Pigeon Tunnel by John le Carre (from the tottering heap), and The Lollipop Shoes by Joanne Harris (Kindle).