This week has felt nearly restful.
Being in my own home means I can see the cobwebs, weeds and unashamed mess around the edges.
Having said that I have been to the beautician, the osteopath and Brighton.
The journey from our cottage to Brighton is a mile a minute. So we get there, on a good day, which it was, in about 38 minutes. Past sheep and wild fowl, past, churches and piano wearhouses, past organic farm shops and Lewes. Under the Cuilfal Tunnel, on the duel carriageway into Brighton. I get nostalgic since B went to Music school there. It makes me think of her bass playing and raggedy arsed muso’s.
Ad Infinitum
IN DOLL GENTS
11.30 – 12.30 saw me writing you a very funny blog when the machine massacred it. I’m meant to be on holiday so I shouldn’t let it annoy me but it has so, rather than spend another full hour trying re-write what I deemed to be THE BEST BLOG EVER WRITTEN IN THE HISTORY OF … Read more
night night wear
It’s nightdress weather. Jim’s at The Young Vic. I am in the sitting room wearing a victorian nightdress. I need to write but my eyes are as heavy as a sack of coal. The corner deli in Battersea Square sells smoky buffalo mozzarella. When Gennaro Contaldo gave me a big box of home smoked-made-by-mama-mozzarella. I … Read more
An Education
By 9.30 ‘RISK IT FOR A BISCUIT’ was finished.
Goody and I hugged and off she went to visit her fiancee in Carshalton Hospital.
I walked by the river, the sun warm the sky blue the air cold. Thought about going to see ‘AN EDUCATION’ at BAFTA. If I got a seat I would need my BAFTA membership card. So I walked back to the flat, wakened Jim, kissed him to go to sleep again, got my card and took the 170 to Victoria.
I arrived at work feeling a lot less tired than yesterday.
The Ugly’s
Twelve hour days are not good for a girl.
I arrived home, my bag strapped to my chest, my coat gaping open, telephone in left hand, keys in the right and a head full of toxic thoughts.
The flat is peaceful, quiet, empty and all enveloping.
The train ride home was full of ugly people. Do you ever get days like that where everybody has got something wrong with them. I know its my eyes that are actually out of kilter not them, but there were overbites and underbites, overweights and overbearings, over the tops and over here, with a big ruby red fraternity ring and a very loud mid-western telephone manner.
Me and Mr. Caine.
This morning was cold. The grass, at the cottage, was covered in dewy frost.
Jim drove me to the station.
I thought we were going to miss the train in the event Jim drove back home and I was left standing by a dark waiting room.
The gates were half shut and the guards were standing in a clump by the gates.
The engineering works had overrun, a track was broken and the trains were running late or cancelled.
The crew were less than helpful. They didn’t seem to care that some of us had work deadlines. Stay calm I instructed the maniac in my head.
Sleepless in Sussex
B has just cooked us roast chicken, roast potatoes, roasted butter-nut squash, roasted red onion with thyme, peas. broccoli and onion gravy.
We await for a belly space before eating some Banoffi pie.
Jim supplied a deep, rich red wine which even I liked.
The dimmer switch has blown in the kitchen so we had ceiling lights as well as the candles.
Just the three of us, Chet Baker singing to us and the drip, drip from the rain-drops off the Clematis outside the window.
It felt like eight but it was only half five.
I am now in my pj’s, I’ve booked my armchair for the ‘X Factor’ results, and I’ve set my alarm so I can stay another night before going back to Londinium
Uncle Vanya
Just got in from ‘The Young Vic’ where the old man is in a workshop production of ‘Uncle Vanya.’ Interesting. The cast are strong. A dreadful moment when one of the actors had to cook macaroni cheese in an onstage microwave. In real time. In real space. The smell of the cooking pasta made me … Read more
Curry Up its bed time.
She’s gone.
The lodger has gone.
The girl who locked herself in my spare room has finally gone.
The funny little thing that made my life so difficult has taken her strange smell with her and gone.
Some people rub you up the wrong way she was one of them, I was in a perpetual state of cat-fur-stroked-the-wrong-way-itis. I tried to be a forgiving, decent human being but I turned into a sneidy, hissing landlady who couldn’t give her one inch, frightened that she may take a mile, now thank heavens she has gone.
She has left the room empty but not clean.
My lovely Sarah,scrubbed, hoovered, dusted, mopped, cleaned, and changed the bed clothes, it’s ready to be slept in again. I cleansed the room with a candle and some space clearing spray. I sprayed and sprayed, lit the candle, opened the windows, and the curtains – which she didn’t open for four months – and opened the door.
I have my flat back. It has been an absolute nightmare. I’m pretty sure she’ll never read this but if she does, I take total responsibility for the last few months, it was like windscreen wipers on a dry window. That squeak that gets your teeth grinding….
London Sunday
There are so many leaves around that I await the train cancellations. Sunday in London consisted of up late and a shower. A long, hot shower which went cold in the middle because Jim put the tap on in the kitchen. Then a slow drive to Borehamwood to visit ma mere. We stopped in, I … Read more