Yesterday

In the car on the way to North Norfolk.

(So much admin to do on my lap! Where does it all come from?)

Bink rings. Is Rose there?

Yup. Just before I hand you over, Bee. Any chance of internet before Sunday?

Lose reception.

(This is Norfolk, after all.)

Try again.

What did you say?

Any chance...

Lose reception.

So it goes on.

ANY CHANCE OF INTERNET? So you can send me your post.

I don’t know if I want you to have what I’ve written.

Why?

First, because it’s s***.

Second, because it’s all about me.

Right.

Well. First, it may not be.

Second, is this because you don’t think people will be interested? Or because it’s too private and you don’t want anyone to read it?

What?

Lose reception.

Terminally.

North Norfolk winding roads.

(I wanted to write, windy... but that looks the same as windy so I couldn’t.)

Yesterday evening. Text.

I have a 2nd draft. 500 and something words.

Perfect. Have you read today’s post? Readers excited.

Ahh no I dont want to read it. And I still have to work out how to type it up let alone send it.

I have a picture in mind.

(My goodness. She’s counted all those words up in ink on paper. I remember those days... And I had told her the picture was optional. So she’s done extra.)

Sounds fab. Don’t stress. All friends.

You can dictate if easier.

I have an idea 4 a column.

Ooooh!!!

For whom?

Gone...

Alex thinks setting up a Paypal button should be straightforward. Promised to try today.

No patronising, now!

We each only pay what it was worth to read it, right?

(After all, if she’s got an idea for a column, we might have to take out regular subscriptions.)

*****

(And if she doesn’t?

Find access to the internet? Reopen her email account after years of dormancy. Post her post?

All you readers looking forward to hearing from her at last...

This is a blog about mental illness.

That’s what it’s like.

Wham.)