Yesterday was my birthday, a full day without work, of efficient plans and trips with Deborah. It was a strange day, that began with great cold, of 12 degrees here, and a chilly waking which demanded hot tea. At one point I thought I had hypothermia, which I aml prone to - my normal body temperature seems to be one to half a degree below 'normal'. I awoke to presents and cards, far more than usual, due to the special birthday. A message from Ché and a hand delivered card from Donna, yet many friends were and remain oddly silent, and for the first time since its genesis, Social Media had no congratulations or messages. This, I think now, was rather strange or sad, but yesterday was generally busy and joyous. Deborah, her divine and lovely presence, made the day special, magical, uniquely happy. Before her, I tended to ignore birthdays. Now, they are to be enjoyed for explicitly no reason. The whole day was spent with her, with a lovely visit, and gift of a painting, from John W in the late evening.
I had a few wonderful gifts; a stylish leather trench coat. I'm still amazed and overwhelmed at this luxury gift, but also Star Maker by Olaf Stapledon, which has been on my Amazon wish-list for years, and which was spotted by Bruce.
I've started reading it and am instantly awed by it, partly because it reads so like my own work and my own voice. It's extraordinarily like certain sections of The Many Beautiful Worlds of Death. So far the book is a crystallisation of awe.
Much the today, otherwise, has been low and slow. I awoke, at 7am, to temperature of 9.4 degrees in the room and ice on the inside of the windows. I wore full pyjamas with long sleeves in bed, but also socks, fleece pullover, wooly hat, plus the duck-down duvet and fur throw. This was enough to keep me warm, if I had energy, but I could feel it flowing away. I got up for a warm drink, and this was a great help. It transpires that it was minus 9 degrees outside. I felt sleepy and lack-lustre, and have developed a headache and sore-throat. A cold perhaps. I took zinc, and hot drinks. The room is warmer today, but the cost of heating huge. This is forecast to be the coldest day. There were so few birds; I wish I could feed them, but my mum is sceptical about helping in case this encourages dependency (which I think is ridiculous, lives are at stake). But, this is not my house. I am as subordinate as I am (ultimately) dependent.
I've renewed my membership to The Society for Art of Imagination, and wrote a simple samba melody in A-minor for The Girl With The Pearl Earring and began the sequencing. I must rest, drink, stay warm, hope, than my cold will be minor and that I'll recover enough for Saturday's busy event.
