Art, life and death

A good day on Thursday – I dealt with a lot of stuff from my desk and posted numerous letters. Went on to the bank; and to Sainsbury’s, but didn’t do any more cleaning. Enough is enough for the moment. I’ll come back to it when I’m sure M is finished. There are still one or two drips. Thank goodness it’s dealt with though. Cold weather is forecast tomorrow.

Yesterday I went to London and this time, met my friend. It was a fine day and Trafalgar Square was full of people, though we didn’t go into the square. I didn’t even take a coat; just wore a trouser suit with a short jacket. We had hot chocolate at the National Gallery, and it was dreadful. What could they have done to it? It was thick and gloopy with a skin on top. I was suspicious that someone had added corn flour to it to make it appear luxuriously thick, but it didn’t work. I couldn’t finish it and I’m a chocolate lover.

We spent about two or three hours at the exhibition of Renoir landscapes – lovely. Even if the Impressionists were the modern artists of their time and were regarded with suspicion, you can still look at them and enjoy the paintings as aesthetically pleasing – unlike some of today’s monstrosities. But don’t get me onto that topic. Then we had lunch and a long chat at the Portrait Gallery.

I’ve just been for a walk to the post box. The deep puddles have dried up and I didn’t have to put on my new boots. It was still quite muddy in places, but the sun was shining brightly. It’s mild again today, and I wanted to get out before the weather changes. I counted 2,000 steps, which would be beneficial if I did the same walk every day, though it probably didn’t compensate for the chocolate buttons and cake I’d already consumed. You’re supposed to do 10,000 steps every day. If I did, maybe I’d get rid of my stomach and extra chin, and could still eat the chocolate.

I heard on the news, this morning, that Sally Clarke died yesterday, aged 42. Anyone who had a baby around that time will probably remember she was imprisoned for apparently killing her two little boys, originally regarded as cot deaths. After three years’ imprisonment, she was released on appeal. The memorable thing about her trial was Professor Roy Meadows saying that the chance of a second cot death occurring in a family was 73 million to 1. Any jury would pick up on that statement and be influenced by it. It was appalling that he was allowed to get away with saying something like that, based on a sort of premise that lightning doesn’t strike twice in the same place. Any parent who has experienced a cot death would be thrilled with that statistic, though the truth is harder to face. The fact is that if you have had a cot death, you are statistically more likely to have a second one than another mother is to have a first one. The Daily Telegraph on its front page says it’s a one in 200 chance, which is nearer the truth, though they have a different statistic on their inside pages. I can’t imagine what it must be like to have two cot deaths. When I had a second miscarriage, I didn’t know how I could face it if things went wrong again, and when I had a cot death, I didn’t know if I could bear it, if I lost another baby. But imagine being in that state of bereavement and being imprisoned for three years. It seems completely unbearable, and though, at this stage, it’s not known how Sally Clarke died, maybe, in spite of her release, life had become unbearable for her.