Another dull Monday

Being a studious student. All this reading, researching, thinking and typing is driving me nuts. Desperate for some fresh air and exercise – the sum total of my activity today being, a short cycle ride to my Lone Parent compulsory 6-month advice session at the Job Centre (complete waste of time); an aborted attempt to go for a swim (school gala happening, so not open to the public); a wander round the shops vaguely looking for a birthday present for Heidi (something outdoorsy and useful maybe?), and picking up various bits and pieces (bread, milk, toothpaste, copy of the Daily Mail purely for the free DVD offer as Billy expressed an interest – might save it for his birthday party sleep-over); and then a stint this evening modelling at St Ives (tiring, and muscle-achey, but not exactly exercise). All very unsatisfactory. And all very dull.

Despite my hours labouring at the keyboard, still didn't manage to get half the stuff done that I wanted to. Only managed to get this week's feature article written up, which means I'm lagging behind badly. May have to dip out on another work placement over the break, and concentrate instead on catching up on everything – maybe even forge ahead? Or if I do get off my arse to organise something, will need to make sure it's just for a week, and is something fairly low-key.

Still wallowing in self-pity, but hopefully coming into the light soon. Am considering suggesting to Beth that she look for another job, as really not happy about having to work together at the Acorn. It's bad enough that she's taken my man (Jolene stylee) and that I have to endure seeing him all the time because of Pondlife, but to feel uncomfortable at the Acorn as well? No way. It's my second home – my sanctuary – was the place that I could run to, to get away from all the other crap in my life. Don't want her to sully my relationship with this place that has had such a significance for me. Hard to believe that I've been working behind the bar there now for more than eight years – the longest serving member of staff other than Steve (who's been there forever).

If she had even the slightest shred of decency, she'd walk. But I already know that she hasn't, so getting her to be reasonable may prove tricky. I'm certainly not going to make any bones about my grief with her – extended hand of friendship now permanently withdrawn – and she'll just have to like it or lump it, as I'm not going to be nice. I'm still really upset at having lost the plot the other day – mis-directing my anger towards the kids, instead of where it's warranted. At her. Nothing to do with a woman scorned, but everything to do with a sense of betrayal, and downright deceit. Makes me fume just thinking about it now.

Putting things into perspective though, it was sobering to hear how artist Lucy is coping/still trying to cope with her son's death several months down the line, and celebrating the first of many of her birthdays without him tomorrow. So incredibly sad. Her only son, aged just 15 at the time. Everything I've been wittering on about pales into pathetic nothingness. I can't even begin to conceive the anguish, pain and grief she must be experiencing – every single day. It'll be such a long process – something she'll face every morning when she wakes up and remembers that he's not there. Tragic. I'm embarrassed to be wasting a single tear on this tawdry affair by comparison.

Sending you healing wishes, Lucy. I hope you find some kind of peace in your heart soon.