10th March

On Sunday a group of us walked through the fields from Ditchling to this hospice with an ordnance survey map.  It was the kind of walk when you have to leap over ditches, wrestle with barbed wire fences and plunge into great muddy ravines.  Actually, most of it was like navigating a swamp after all the rain we have had.  Today my neck and shoulders ache like mad from all the gripping onto branches to avoid skidding in awkward positions.  
When we arrived we burst straight through Vicky's french doors, avoiding the main entrance, leaving our sodden shoes and socks outside.  We then sat around and somebody sang Vicky some folk songs.  The kitchen provided us with hot lunches and we gave Vicky's bedroom a good sweep before we left.
It is now Tuesday and I am here very early as I miss Vicky when I don't see her on Mondays.  My acupuncture clinics were full yesterday but perhaps they will stop with the Covid19.  
I am still knitting the blanket but now it is for a doll, not a real baby.  It is growing bigger, as different women keep doing squares for me.  Knitting with other women is a satisfying occupation; we feel we are all at one in this together.
Josie


I am getting more and more helpless but can still think quite well.  I have had to accept that I will never ever again: do the cryptic crossword in the Guardian, cook a roast dinner, swim, ride a bike, make a quiche, read a novel.  Well, I knew all this some time ago.  
But I can enjoy the beautiful view from my hospice window (sometimes with a donkey). And taste the delicious meals provided.  And also see Josie and other visitors daily.  I am never lonely or bored and I sleep a lot.  I just feel impatient to get to whatever lies ahead. I have no fear.
Vicky.