Blackboard

I have a blackboard on my wall (a real, black chalkboard, and real white chalk, and a real wall). Sometimes I use it to write down telephone numbers, but never whose number it is, or names of people to call a month ago. Recently, I've been writing things to do - I think I've even written Today at the top of the list. There were four or five things a week or so ago and all but one has been rubbed out. How satisfying it is to run my thumb and leave only a white dusty trace of a task. The one thing left is Read. It's almost silly, since I might as well write Breathe. In fact, maybe I should write Breathe in case I forget in odd moments. It's reassuring that today I will always accomplish at least one thing on the board; Although tomorrow morning I might add Empty dishwasher, Sew,  Write, but Read will still be there, and it's reassuring that I will accomplish at least one item.


Reading: Today I finished reading The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel,  Deborah Moggach. The book is dark and edgy, but with characters from English cosies. Judi Dench, Maggie Smith, Bill Nighy, Tom Wilkinson - can't wait to see the movie!


Started: The Women's Room, Marilyn French. From 1977, I remember the opening, in the ladies' room, with Ladies' crossed out and Women's written in. From that point, the book jogs no memory, but today I am surprised that it's early days in women's liberation. I thought we were further along then - I thought I was further along.