Sometimes I wonder if I am really awake or just fumbling my way through a dream. I live in two cities and have two lives. I only have one precious family whom I love with all my heart so there is no sinister subterfuge, just a compulsion to do as much as possible and keep all my plates spinning while I add yet another.
I have extraordinary friends who offer me shelter and listen to my rambling plans. My activities are interesting and bring me into contact with the most inspiring people but I find it difficult to make sense of it all and understand why I do what I do. So I thought I might use this forgotten blog to explore it and record my situation. I think only a trusted few people, if any, read it and you already know how close to the edge I am.
Tonight I am staying in Andrea and Roger's beautiful Moscar Gables in Hollow Meadows halfway between Sheffield and Manchester on the A57. The room in which I sleep is probably the same size as my own little house, upstairs and down.
In this room are two bookcases full of treasure. It has to be enough to gaze longingly at them and read the spines because at present I am not reading much, possibly because my eyes are changing, which in itself is the best reason for reading, before it is too late.
I have been staying here a few days every month for about two years and have read several of the books, including Hilary Mantel's A Greater Place of Safety which pitched me headlong into the French Revolution. But there are so many more books here that open doors into other worlds, other times and lives as incomprehensible as my own.
While I am staying here I usually go to Wincobank Chapel and Zion Graveyard, visit Marie and meet up with Bridget, drop into Meadowhall and rake the tram into Sheffield City Centre. I go to planning meetings or help with children's activities which I have organised from Liverpool. It is always a packed agenda.
If there is time and the weather is good I walk with Andrea in her garden which is the size of a small park. I transplanted three fir trees from my garden at Newman Road when I first moved to Sheffield in 2004. Two are still growing and loving the space.
There is a story to this beautiful house which once belonged to Horatio Bright of Brightside and was bought by Andrea's father at auction in the 1950s. There was subsidence, no electricity and no running water. Now it has been restored to its magnificence and I love it.
Tomorrow I will drive back to Liverpool and live my other life in my very small home until I come back again.
