Learning Seaford Head

Another Lorraineless day. Maureen stable in hospital but Lorraine there to join all the dots. It meant I could simply go to my desk early, and think about my poetry MS. Also cooked loaf that had been in the airing cupboard overnight. 

Decided to go off to the gym, but when I arrived there, the emergency alarms were all going. The receptionist let me in anyway, but as the alarms did not stop, and eventually the building was cleared, and we hung about outside I decided to cut my losses and go for a longish walk instead. I began exploring some of the paths climbing up Seaford Head. Because of my reluctance to go where there is no cover, I must thread up near trees and so on. Stupid anxiety makes me feel weird in wide exposed spaces, especially on the tops of hills. So I have to learn how to climb Seaford Head my own way. But I did eventually get to the top, but immediately began scrambled down again. I was comforted by the fact there is a golf course there, because it reminded me of the hill fort at Hollingbury which took me a while to master but became like a second home. 

Then down to the sea and along the seafront two thirds of the way to Newhaven, before doubling back through the side streets home.  A gorgeous day. I am listening to I Shall Bear Witness, the first volume of diaries by Victor Klemperer. He was born on October 9th, and spends much of the diary so far impotently watching things Society unravel in 30s Germany, making little progress with his writing and worrying about his health.  

Home again but listless. Spoke to Lorraine from time to time. Perhaps a change of scene? To The Old Boot Inn, to nurse a pint of mother in law, and scribbled some ideas in my notebook. This seemed to help, and after I finished my pint I came straight home again. Cooked fish fingers and steamed vegetables and watched a few episodes of a BBC series about hip hop -- and then some football before bed.

Below climbing up the west side of Seaford Head -- the paths quite icy.