I've been to see the Queen: she says my hands are perfickly clean

Yesterday was a busy day. I had an appointment with the counsellor, who said she thinks I have actually done pretty well, that I am very resilient, understand well what I am going through, that I have been making the right decisions about how to deal with it all, and does not think I need anti-depressants. This was good to hear. I had discussed the matter with my doctor and she agreed with my reasoning, and we will review the matter in another month or so.

I have another appointment with the counsellor on the anniversary of Dr P's death, and I think that will help me get through the day.

Apart from putting myself on automatic pilot, missing my turnoff and thus nearly landing in Parramatta Road, and thus having to chuck a U-ie,  the day went well. I had a lovely lunch with a blogging friend who is in the process of completing her PhD, and borrowed a couple of books from the library (one on Boganomics). 

In the afternoon I went up to the bank, to make sure that all the recent hassles have been resolved and to ensure that everything is in order. The bank assures me that this is so. It all took a long time, actually past bank closing time, but it now seems that the credit card thing has been sorted out, direct debits have been effected, and I now have actual euros. The bank staffer seemed to think I was both organised and efficient, but I think there was some flattery and customer manipulation going on. Not that I minded. As they say in the Classics, "Flattery will get you anywhere."

Just to show that life does not always go according to plan, a  biro leaked all over my diary, my handbag, and my hands, and made a very big mess. I had to make do with tissues until I got home and found the eucalyptus oil.  How did the world cope before the manifold virtues and efficacy of eucalyptus oil were discovered? My jacket and blouse need dry cleaning.

However! This morning I set off for the bus in order to get to the first Italian class for the year. Because my telephone line has become unbearably crackly, I decided to ring up what used to be known as Service Difficulties, but is now simply known as Complaints. The person who answered the phone agreed that there was a lot of crackling on the line, so has organised a technician.  This meant that I was a little late in leaving the house, and I stopped to drop off the clothing with the biro stains at the dry cleaners. And then I tripped, trying to catch the traffic lights, and the part of me that hit the ground first was my face.

Kind people immediately gathered around, got me to my feet, and a very kind young woman (another PhD student) found the local optometrist, who was having a coffee before opening her business for the day. She promptly fixed my bent spectacles, and then the young woman insisted on escorting me to the doctor, just down the road. If you are going to have a fall, outside a cafe is a good place, because they have all these paper napkins, so handy for mopping up the blood.

I now have two stitches in my eyebrow, and will probably develop some bruises, and have been advised to have a quiet day and not to gad about. So no Italian, and no choir tonight.

Always look on the bright side of life. I have been listening to the ABC's interview with Margaret Throsby. Her guest today was Professor Gordon Parker, a psychiatrist and eminent expert on depression and mental illness. And Lo! He started talking about grief, which he said was quite different from depression, and said that anti-depressants  were very unlikely to help!