London

I think London is one of the things that will save me.

I’ve been to the V&A cafe again, with the nice windows and tiles and chandeliers and piano (silent today) – and nice food.

I no longer feel quite so distraught and sad about my poor dear partner and friend no longer existing.  Well, it’s still bad, but that balance between him, me and the world is changing.  The world is pulling me back.

People all around are talking about everyday, inane things.  You can’t hold it against them.  Everyone can’t be profound all the time.

As I’ve said before, I no longer have him, but I do have the rest of the world.

I’ve looked round a shoe exhibition, seen shoes worn by David Beckham, Naomi Campbell and Marilyn Monroe.  (So what, I hear you ask?)

I’ve eaten nice chicken and courgettes and new potatoes.

I’ve seen some of my favourite old pieces – the amazing statue of the woman nursing a baby, in the long gallery by the courtyard; the way her expression is captured, the way she looks so real.

If I was a sculptor I would make a statue of my dear John.  Soon I will start to do artworks of some sort to commemorate him.

But today I’m just going to enjoy looking at pretty things.  I know he would have forgiven me for carrying on with life.

I carry him with me in my heart.

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