I haven't had a good month. I have to decide where to focus my energies when I don't really have any energies, and nobody's much interested in me anyway.
I was feeling pretty low last night, had drunk as much wine as I could usefully drink, and had taken a promethazine in the hope that I'd be zonked out for 12 hours, and might resurface with a more positive attitude.
Then I got an email from Darrell, the convener of my local #U3A philosophy group. I'd left it too long to enrol for the new year, so I missed out on a place in the class and was on a waitlist.
He invited me to come along anyway as an "Illegal", in the expectation that people will drop out, so I might as well be there from week one.
It was such a kind and thoughtful offer that I burst into tears.
Of all the things I've done in the last couple of years, talking about caustically controversial stuff with other dotty old people once a week has without question been the most fun.
I didn't think much of missing out this year, thinking I had other, more serious things I ought to be getting on with.
Fuck the serious things. I'll go where I'm wanted.