Great excitement last night! Godalming is finally famous, hurrah!! We switched on "Location, Location, Location" on TV (not something we watch often, but it just happened to be on) and there was Godalming - in the screen-flesh! Not only that, but the couple in question were looking at a house virtually opposite our road. I kept waving at the traffic coming out of the junction in the hope that one of them might be us, but it never was. Waving to oneself on TV would have been the ultimate in crazed sadness. I do understand that. The programme also gave some suitable shots of middle-class Surrey enjoying their constitutionals, so it was lovely to scream at places we knew. Gods, but we really have to get out more. Anyway, the upshot was that the couple bought the house, even though she was eight months pregnant and we kept shrieking: don't buy it - that junction is hell, your child will never be able to play in the front garden and you will be doomed forever to a back garden life only! And we should know - that main road is a deathtrap for the unwary visitor. They should have viewed it at 8.30am or between 5pm and 6pm. Both Lord H and I have learnt to press the accelerator down to the floor and cast our fates into the laps of the gods every morning. And that's only turning left. Turning right is an absolute no-hoper! Interestingly, the other couple featured in the programme bought a house in Bournemouth, Lord H's old hunting ground, so things are getting seriously spooky here in the shires ...
This morning, I have shopped in Guildford and bought a new pair of light walking shoes and a day rucksack-type bag. So I'm all prepared for our next spot of bird watching, aha! I just have to get water bottles that will fit the spaces allowed for them in the bag. And I had a counselling session with Kunu - which was quite relaxing actually. We discussed the fact that for the first time ever, I'm beginning to feel that family judgements which have been made against me in the past (and are, I know, still being made) are actually wrong. And there's no need to feel pressurised by them. Hurrah! People in my family live a different way from me, but that's no reason for me to change my views. Or life choices indeed. Quite empowering really. It might (just!) be okay to be me. As it were. And anyone who implies otherwise is likely to find themselves kicked firmly into touch. I mean, bloody hell, I've never told them what to do - so why the hell should they feel it necessary to tell me what to do? I'm done with all that stuff, really I am. I'm me and they frankly will just have to lump it.
Talking of which, Lord H and I visited Mother in hospital this afternoon. She's surprisingly well, and very perky, even though the operation was only on Tuesday. Honestly, keyhole surgery is a marvellous thing. She thinks she might even be out by the weekend, all things being equal, and assuming they don't find anything else (here's hoping not, for the old gal's sake ...). So fingers crossed, eh. We had to do a loo run together, which was something of a laugh, I have to say - I think she was glad I'd turned up, even if only for that purpose. After all, I'm good with old people - I've worked voluntarily in an old people's home and have done visiting for years. Hmm, funny how much more empowered I feel when my mother is safely lying on her sickbed or dependent on me for something. Aha! Crazed Godalming daughter sweeps through Essex, eyes flashing and zimmer frame raised in triumph ...! Kunu did say that might happen though. Wonderful counsellor, that woman.
And I managed to avoid the horrible brothers too - result!
But goodness me, the journey home was hell. The M25 had given up the ghost entirely so we had to use the A25 instead, and it took us nearly 4 hours (4 hours in a journey that only lasts 2!!!) to get home. A journey which included several heart-stopping minutes when we had literally no petrol left (so much so that even Lord H was worried ...) and no sight of a petrol station. I mean, what the hell is it with the A25??? - there's a road that's just crying out for petrol stations, and not a bloody one in sight. We had to leave it in order to find one.
So we're shattered tonight, and I'm about to go to bed. Can't be arsed with TV frankly.
Oh, and Kathy from Guildford Writers has got a wonderful story involving a very hot train journey to Zagreb in this month's (well, August) "Scarlet" magazine - so everyone must rush out and buy it. You'll find it in the deliciously named "Cliterature" section, tee hee! It's seriously hot - so well done, Kathy!
Today's nice things:
1. Seeing Godalming on TV
3. Mother moments (weirdly).
Pink Champagne and Apple Juice