Raining in my heart.

Despite being on holiday, (or maybe because of it) I am finding that my "get-up-and-go" has "got-up-and-went". Poor Dimairt didn't get much of a walk; I lay in bed and read until one in the afternoon, had my first meal at 4, and was sitting watching a Frasier DVD at eleven at night, when I realised that I hadn't taken a single photo - unheard of, really.

Out to the garden, in the drizzle, and a few shots with flash. (My friend Jenny gave me this garden ornament a couple of years ago, and it glows beautifully in the dark.)

My heart just isn't into doing anything constructive. I also keep thinking about Vicki, an ex-pupil whose family still live in Gairloch; she died 10 days ago in a car accident in England. I feel so sad for such a waste.

The book I am reading has also moved me - Maggie O'Farrell's "The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox". I find it so horrific that someone can be locked into an asylum for life, after being raped at 16. The family were so ashamed that she disappeared from the family's life. Our uncle was locked up after a nervous breakdown during the war, and there he stayed for the rest of his life; my sister and brothers only found out about his existence by accident, and I only met him once before he died.

In writing this journal entry, I googled 'Esme Lennox', and came across this Guardian article written by the author. I haven't finished the book yet, but I know that I shall by the next blip. I will no doubt be writing about it in my next entry.

Here's hoping I can get out of the doldrums, get my act together and find some energy from somewhere. Maybe I should have done a ritual dance in the rain round the ornament last night! Sorry to have sounded a bit down. It won't last, I am sure.