Woof

Went running this morning through the woods at Tunstall and although it was 8am it was as black as night beneath the trees. I was concentrating so hard on not tripping over a wet tree root, that I collided with a Northumbrian Water man dressed like a hired assassin. Not sure what he was doing. Probably having a crafty fag.

Then over to Blyth hospital to do my reading project. I'd fixed up an interview with a elderly woman called Freda whom I'd met there a couple of weeks ago. When I'd first approached she was so quiet and withdrawn that I assumed she had severe dementia, but she was actually blind and profoundly deaf. As soon as I heard her speak I recognised her as an Irish woman and within minutes I'd discovered that she was an extraordinary character. Born in Co. Wicklow in the late 1920's, her parents had both died before she was 10 years old and she'd been brought up by her school teacher Uncle. She told me about visiting the Sorbonne in 1938 for four months and the dancing she'd done in Paris, working in Hong Kong and Cyprus, and finally training to be a teacher in her late forties, all whilst simultaneously bringing up six children single-handedly, one of whom sat alongside her during the interview, his eyes red with suppressed tears . It was a privilege to talk to such a woman. At the end she said, "It's a wonderful life I've been given."

By the time I'd driven back through the pouring rain (and a fuel gauge on empty) I was fried. But the sight of Luna and Eve's greeting pulled me back into the world.