Up at the crack of dawn today as foolishly (why, oh God, why?) I'd booked a visit from my hairdresser at 8.15am. Even managed to get Lord H out of the bath by then, which is a miracle in itself. Not, of course, that he was driven to trying to stay where he was by the thought of a glamorous, curvy brunette discovering him naked in the bathroom, oh sir, me, sir? oh sir, no sir. Far be it from me even to suggest such a thing. Anyway, poor Lynda arrived in a terrible state, which isn't surprising bearing in mind she had to put up with the mother-in-law from hell over Christmas. What is it with these bitchy women? Why do they have to be so horrid? Suffice it to say that if Lynda had put something nasty in her tea and not bothered to phone for an ambulance, I would have been (a) not judgemental and (b) happy to provide a character reference. A thought for next year perhaps?
Post-being suitably coiffed for the outside world, I nipped round an icy Godalming and actually bought some clothes. Shocking news indeed - as clothes shopping is such a heartless trauma usually. But there's something about our particular version of the Edinburgh Woollen Mill which is a million times more classy than any other EWM I've ever been in. It even has jazzy stuff for the under 80s. Phew. So I bought (wait for it ...) one jazzy jumper, a navy men's shirt (for me - boys' stuff always suits me better) and (argh!) two fluffy cardigans. Which are very nice, thank you, and will at least keep me warm during these bitter winter months. I must remember to call them "soft jackets" though, when I try to explain to Lord H - as he has a pathological hatred of the cardigan. Am looking out for my Saga invitation any day now, however ...
And a great miracle has occurred locally. The Surrey Advertiser has real news that I even want to read in it this week. Hurrah. No, double hurrah! - this hasn't happened at all before in my thirteen years of living in Surrey. Oh, apart from the time it carried a picture of me and my first poetry book. My one claim to fame, eh? But today, it is packed with information about (a) National Rabbit Week (http://www.nationalrabbitweek.co.uk) local events, (b) the filming of an episode of the classic Midsomer Murders at Loseley House, and (c) St Peter's new vicar, Paul Jenkins, and his plans for the parish. Riches indeed. Hmm. Interesting that I didn't feel able to type "our church" in the last item - as it definitely doesn't feel like that any more. But also interesting that he's planning a quiet day sometime during the year, and that's something I might even be up for attending. We'll see.
For the rest of the morning, I scribbled down another 1000 words of "The Gifting" - I'm just getting to an important turning point when Johan finally tells Simon the purpose of the journey they're on, a revelation which will, I hope, change Simon's world view. And this afternoon, I typed them all up onto the computer. Hey, writing can be fun. I'd forgotten that.
And I was just about to get myself ready for a round of golf when Marian rang to say she couldn't make it as her granddaughter was sick, which meant a trip to the nursery to retrieve her. Poor thing - every child I know seems to be down with something at the moment. Have to say I was quite relieved not to have to face the chill on the course though. We'll be playing golf as a foursome on Sunday so I hope to God it warms up by then.
I've also used my SAD light for the first time - goodness me, how strong it is. Hope it does me some good eventually - but I have to admit I spent a large part of the afternoon churning with writers' jealousy at the fact that my fellow writers are suddenly producing new books and getting new deals like nobody's business. Deep and heartfelt sigh. Will it ever be my turn? D'you know, sometimes it would be sooooo good if I could just go for one moment into my future and see if my writing life ever does get going in a commercial sense, or whether mainly locally available books is to be my lot in life. I almost wouldn't mind either way (almost, mind!) - but the not knowing is very destructive. And yes, I know (from reading Susan Jeffers' "Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway") that this type of thinking means I am severely lacking in personal qualities and self esteem, and that I am not Taking Control of My Own Life. But, hey, tell me something I didn't know, eh? I do really think that if only Flame Books would contact me and tell me something (anything, chaps, anything - even what you bought at the shops last week will do!!) about how the publishing schedule (if there is one indeed) for "A Dangerous Man" is going, then I would feel so incredibly differently about stuff. I did, as a matter of (desperate!) interest, look at the contract I signed last April recently, and it says that they promise to publish within six months, without fail. Hmm. As that was October 2006, it doesn't fill me with much confidence, I have to say. So, I continue as ever to languish in the Flame Pit of Hell - with my fellow-submitters, Jonathan and Julie, close at my heels. Will ADM even be published in 2007? I'm not placing bets.
For the rest of the afternoon, I've had a wonderful nap, all warm and cosy on the sofa with my dressing gown, my pillow, my cuddly hedgehog and the heating on. Bliss. Tonight, Lord H is out at the practice for the induction of the new priest at St Peter's (see - still can't say "our church" ...) on Sunday. Yes, there has to be practice - it will involve incense swinging and they don't want anyone to die. It's a tricky manoeuvre. And, no, I won't be going - couldn't bear the amount of people and general bonhomie, frankly.
Tonight, I'm doing sod all. Hurrah. Though I really will have to clean something. One day.
Today's nice things:
1. Getting a haircut
2. Buying clothes