Bugger Uranus – or maybe it’s Saturn!
Having had the proper holiday its noses to the grindstone until Paris this weekend. And before you waggle your finger and accuse me of living the life of Reilly, I’ve been invited to stay with a friend who has promised to give me a guided tour of the romantic city so that when the time’s right I’ll take the old git on a guided tour of the city that I would have had this weekend..
Ad Infinitum
Dog Day Afternoon
For thirteen years and seven months we had a big, soft, sloppy Labrador.
He was walked just about every single day.
When we were on holiday he was walked by friends and family.
When it rained we put on galoshes, anoraks and a happy face and braved the tempest.
We had short walks, round the houses, which took in chickens, the farm, the outdoor pursuit centre and most of the neighbours.
We had long walks that took in ponds, wood clumps, bluebell woods and scenery.
We had Camber Sands, Brighton beach, Ashdown Forest, and even the riverside walk in Battersea.
Marrakech – Part Five
Marnie and Will sent us photographs of their Riad in Marrakech.
Pretty.
Light.
Beautifully clean.
I felt SO hard done by.
Jim says I will never be able to have a good holiday because I don’t know how to relax and because I want everything to be perfect.
My nephew says I don’t know how to have a good holiday because I am not practiced in it.
I had my first holiday, in England, when I was 35.
My brother and I were not shown how to have a good time, it’s not my parents fault they weren’t shown how to paint the town red either.
Sunday funday.
After a breakfast of scrambled eggs – Bill Granger style – bacon, fresh coffee and toast, I drove Aj back to his car.
21 year old boys who play American football really are sweet arm candy.
The wind was fresh, although this evening its even fresher. The branches on the trees, over-looking the balcony, are waving their leaves around foppishly.
BB drove back into London so Sunday took on a bit of the-old-folks-at-home-scenario.
night time reveries
The cottage has a hole where the dog used to be.
Emmy, the cat, sleeps on the bean bag. I wonder if she is missing him too. But It is only my vain imaginings.
The clematis flowers, huge great big purple ones, have burst their buds round Jims shed.
The re-potted purple sage has kicked up a fuss. It did not like being moved into a new terracotta pot. So now the roses, instead of having their purple companion, drop their petals over a dishevelled droopy herb which looks like its sulking.
Humbugs
Its Wednesday evening. I don’t know whether it’s me, my age, the planets, the weather, the time of the year, my impending holiday, my impending tax bill, my impending birthday. I don’t know whether its because I am not exercising, not exercising enough, not exercising at all, I don’t know whether its because I am … Read more
Comedy and Tragedy.
There’s something wonderful about driving into the centre of London when everybody is driving out.
On Tuesday night I felt queasy, hung over, and not a little irritable, but it didn’t stop me from jumping into the little red car and heading off to Whitehall – actually it wasn’t so much a jump more a careful sidle.
I was going to the press night of FAT PIG, starring Webb, from Mitchell and and Webb, and Kris Marshall from Kris Marshall…
Bank Holiday Madness
Its the end of a BIG four days off.
The cottage feels a little more normal, even though there is a big space where the dogs bed was.
On Friday I collected my newly mended motor, handed over the fancy courtesy car and headed off to a new hairdresser. An ex-body builder who now heals. She does a mean cut and colour, which isn’t mind numbingly expensive, but her healing she does free of charge as she believes her power comes from an invisible force.
She so energised me I drove straight home, hood down, mowed the grass and tossed my hair over the compost – because I’m worth it – by the time I got half way through I was smiling. Damn but I love mowing that lawn, I even gave Marmite Girl a little nod as she sent kind regards for the weekend.
tuesday news
The Northern man who shares my bed started coughing at 3.30.
‘Orrible it was.
Whilst he expectorated I turned to BELLERUTH NAPERSTEK. No she wasn’t sharing our bed, I have a series of her cassette tapes. How to sleep, reduce stress, diminishing anxiety and divorce your husband all with a flick of a switch.
I ended up falling asleep with the head-phones on, when I woke up I had a large round impression on my cheek I looked like I had been branded with a Sony hot iron.
The news woke me at 7.00.
My PT Instructress was arriving at 7.30, so I had 30 minutes to tie my trainers, brush my teeth, wash my face and get rid of the ring of Sony.
I half hoped that my gym mistress wouldn’t turn up, the rain was teeming down and I felt like silage.
Lets play catch up…
Thank you Fee for reminding me that Spurs got hammered!?*&*^%
A big thank you to all my bloggers – me forget you? Perleasse.
But now lets get down to some serious blogging.
Ever since the sugar reading I have been concentrating on my life style.
No, I mean really concentrating.
My day begins three hours before it has to, 3 hours of visualising, pulling out my bee pollen from the freezer, meditating, exercising, running, making up my smoothie, washing, making up my green drink and then driving into the studio. All of this begins at 7o’clock as the crow flies.
I then have my post studio appointments, from going to the theatre, reading books from visiting authors to pre-recording interviews with up and coming guests.
Last evening I went to my acupuncturist who gave me such a heavy treatment that this morning didn’t start until 9.45 which meant I forgot to exercise, couldn’t fit in a run, nearly cancelled my minor ablute before dashing out of the flat to get to work on time.