Heavy Monday-itis today – a morning full of pain and groaning. Most of it mine. Have felt really demotivated and haven’t wanted to talk to anyone at all. Which is a shame as everyone seems to have so much to say. Damn it. Carol is back from honeymoon, complete with tan and wedding cake, so that’s nice. Especially as the cake appears to have a high booze content, hurrah. And, boy, have I needed that!
Some good news on the Mother front though – they think they’ve got all the nasty cancer bits out, though they might give her some Chemo sessions just to make sure – but they haven’t made up their minds yet. And probably won't till the surgeon comes back from her holiday in the Bahamas. The National Health Service is a wonderful thing, you know ... This will probably mean she’ll (Mother, not the surgeon ...)have to rebook her hols (my, how she does love her hols!) next year rather than this, but – as I told her last night – there’s at least another 20 years in the Old Gal yet.
I also seem to have spent a large part of the morning contacting the Nationwide to try to get them to stop a cheque. A simple admin process, you would have thought, but not when it takes ten minutes to work your way through the phone system to get to speak to a real person. And when I finally got to him, I had to go through the usual 100 questions before they actually believed I’m me. I’d just done those and was getting to the point where I could tell him what I wanted him to do when the damn phone got cut off. Arrrrggghhh!!! So I had to go through the whole thing again – deep sigh! Mind you, the second time, when I finally got to a real voice, I told it exactly what I wanted first and then did the security stuff. The customer fights back – aha! And they call this progress? Frankly, m’dear, it’s bollocks. Anyway, Jane H, if you’re reading, I’ve done the biz and sent you a new one – hurrah! And phew!
Thank goodness for my lunchtime reflexology session – I needed the chill zone big-time today for sure.
Oh, and I’ve sent off my signed contract for Maloney’s Law to John for onward transmission to PD Publishing so I look like a professional author. Almost. Even if only temporarily. Ho ho.
And I see on the Writewords site that yet another site expert has been appointed. So huge congrats of course to Claire – but surely now the site has so many darn Chiefs that there’s very little room for us Indians??!. To be honest, I really think it’s time to stop appointing experts as soon there’ll be no-one left to mentor or advise. Or whatever it is experts actually do that the rest of us don’t, if asked … And yes I know that sounds bitchy, but I do think it has to be said. Cue another deep sigh.
Tonight, I’ve got the ruddy shopping, so won’t be able to get home till later – and believe me I really really need to be at home. I do so hate it when I can’t get back sharpish. It’s my essential recharging zone. Much like Seven of Nine even outside the Borg Collective (apologies – just thought I’d slip in a Star Trek reference, as it makes me feel happier).
Oh, and here’s a poem:
Tall blue flowers
stand in an inkwell
as large as a desk.
They are as blue
as the sky
but the inkwell is clear.
Sometimes it's as if
I am empty
and all the world is coloured.
Post-shopping, I suspect a whisky (update: two so far, hurrah!) is definitely on the cards. And there are some chocolate squares in the house – thank goodness …! Nothing like a balanced diet, you know.
And I've just finished Anne Tyler's Digging to America. Hmm. Not vintage Tyler, to my mind. And some of it was quite irritating. Though I did laugh out loud on two occasions, so it does have something. Just not quite sure what. And is it me, or did she get bored at the end and ... um ... simply stop?
Today’s nice things:
1. Mother continuing to beat off the Grim Reaper once more
3. Whisky. And chocolate squares.