Sunday 24th May The Coronet Diaries.


I woke up this morning and had the heavenly thought, perhaps there will be a miracle and this rough beast of a virus will dwindle. Dwindle to nothing. Perhaps…

Zoom’s artificial intelligence escalates by the week. Last week when I thought I had a free slot due to a late cancellation, Zoom emailed to say there was someone sitting in my waiting room. Unholy of holies, I had double booked but the person I was expecting had late cancelled. It’s as though I have a guardian angel; in all the years of practising the question of a double booking has often been accompanied by one person, by serendipity, cancelling on the day. There have been very few times when I am confronted with a situation whereby there is one person already in the consulting room and minutes later there is another at the front door. Yikes, but I have never had any difficulty in deciding which one should occupy the slot. On what basis do I make my decision you might well ask, but that is a professional secret between me and my guardian angel. It is rather similar to my ‘library angels’ who jump in when I am blocked and prod me towards a particular reference book.

I have had to put in a couple of consults today; I just text the 11 AM to ask whether we should Face Time or Zoom? They replied that they were in a field and would Zoom work?. Definitely an opportunity to stay in my pyjamas and do ‘Audio’. They insisted on Face Time. I was confronted, or rather rewarded with a field brimming buttercups-gold. Despite being over sixty, just, they looked like Tess of the D’urbervilles.

Yesterday, I was feeling stressed. Bell was sitting on my bed watching Stig of the Dump. She told me should would prepare a mediation for me while I was in the bath. She did. It’s awesome to think that someone not yet nine years can get it. The ‘it’ loneliness of life and its glory.


IMAGINE ( by Bell)

Imagine you are in the place you have always hoped for 

Imagine you are in

Beach or forest, 

The place where you have always felt loved



 Imagine you are there 

Lying by the sea  

On the ground 

Listening to birds

The waves crash but gently because you know

You are safe 

Everything is there 

Everything that you need 

The non-plastic ocean 

This is the life that you can live if you try 

If you save the ocean 

If you save the animals 

This is where you are you know 

And I know that everybody is alone 

Even though you are not alone you are still walking in the dark 

Even if there is someone there 

You can still be alone 

Still be lonely that’s OK 

In this place you are never lonely 

You are who you want to be 

You stay who you want to be forever 

This is you 

This is your life 

This is why I need you 

We need to go on a mission together 

Save life 

Save oceans together 

I promise things will change if you listen



Again try

Your imagination is all that matters

This is somewhere all of us need to be

2 thoughts on “Sunday 24th May The Coronet Diaries.

  1. Jane, I am stunned by Bell’s poem.

    “Even though you are not alone you are still walking in the dark Even if someone is there”

    Just wow. What a blessing to have her close-by writing mediations for the restorative soak.

    Am just back from a walk with the kids in the woods, following a brook that widens and narrows and bubbles its’ song through the shadows. These hours with them bring back my own memories of childhood, I preferred the damp woods over the sandy beaches of Portugal. I am at ease but also In-step with that paternal alertness, noticing sharp rocks or slippery gravel as Sufian runs in his developing gait headlong into excitement and danger. I read the body language of dogs from a distance.

    I rustle out a picnic and spread it over a small towel, their warm bodies leaning into mine, quiet but for occasional humming, chewing, pointing. On the way back to car, Sufian, who is two, is fading as he needs his nap. But he still has a little left, waving a small leafy branch and trying to catch his sister running ahead of him.

    There is another family group coming our way, two adults and four children, and Suki, my four year old daughter, knows now to move to the other side of the path. Sufian does not, for which I am grateful. He hogs the middle of the path, even moving slightly towards the family who are now in single file, like a row of ducklings. Their two eldest children twist their bodies away from him, from the hips and shoulders, as we might when we move through a dense crowd.

    There is the bit of me that thinks I ought to apologise, which I can analyse another day. I look back and watch the other family break into their regular formation once we’ve passed, and wonder at how natural it has become, especially in children, this turning away from each other, how Suki has already learnt to do this. What will it take to undo this, for her trust proximity again? This is where I reflect on time, and shudder slightly at the idea of this going on for another year, or even two… What might be the long term impact on our children and grandchildren, whose muscles and minds no longer reach out to each other, or know that warm safety of holding hands, touching knees?

    I have another story about skin on skin contact with Sufian, another day perhaps. In other, sunnier news, here is a photo of Sara and I from last night. We had a zoom quiz with some local friends and dressed up for night. The moustache is now gone but was fun for the day. Take care and be in touch.

    Rob xx

    On Sun, 24 May 2020 at 12:25, in the consulting room wrote:

    > Jane Haynes posted: ” Zoom’s artificial intelligence escalates by the > week. Last week when I thought I had a free slot due to a late > cancellation, Zoom emailed to say there was someone sitting in my waiting > room. Unholy of holies, I had double booked but the person I was ex” >

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