Counselling, sex writing and a night out

Well, it's good to pack in as much as you can in a day, you know. Besides, I had to get up early as my hairdresser was arriving at 8.30am to attempt to make me look like a normal human being. And when Lynda says 8.30am, she actually means 8.10 but she'll have been waiting outside the flat since 7.30. For very early morning appointments, it's probably not worth going to bed at all. And you may as well invite her in for supper.

Anyway, she's been and done her thing and gone, with the result that I look unexpectedly stylish as long as I don't move fast in high winds. 'Twas ever thus ... And of course it'll all be ruined (ruined, dahlings, ruined!) when I wash it myself tomorrow. I never really know what to do with a hairdryer and a brush (careful, people, careful ...) - it's like tackling Mount Everest with a pair of sandals and a screwdriver, and hoping to get to the peak by noon.

This morning, I have taken myself (carefully) to my counselling appointment in Guildford and chatted through the week with Kunu. Which was all rather jolly, and we also planned some "coping with people" strategies for tonight (for which see later), which involved not rushing in to fill those terrible gaps in conversations and sitting back now and then to take a broader perspective. I'll have to see if it works. If not, I shall be in the ladies' loos crying and calling Kunu on my mobile. Not her idea of a pleasant evening in, I imagine ...

I was also very proud of myself in Smith's, as I attempted to buy a card and the Radio Times by approaching the only woman at the tills on the upper floor (who studiously ignored me) and asking if she was actually able to sell me something. She said she was but then rushed away, saying she'd be back soon. Instead of my usual response which would be to wait humbly and patiently until the staff deigned to meet my buying needs, I stomped off, muttering about poor service and that I wasn't prepared to wait whilst being rudely blanked. I then went downstairs and found a more amenable employee who even went so far as to take my cash and give me the goods. Harrumph! we cry. Grumpy Old Women 'R' Us. Bloody hell, though, I'm in my forties now and I'm really not taking this crap any more. So if you hear on the news that a mad woman has chained herself to the front door of Guildford Smith's and is chanting about Consumer Rights, it'll be me.

Was much cheered on my way back to the car park though when I bumped into a fellow member of Guildford Writers and spent the next five or ten minutes discussing writing problems and how to do sex scenes. We both agreed that the Golden Rules were to (a) use the words/do the stuff that your characters would genuinely say/do and (b) that if it turned you on, it would probably turn someone else on too. One hopes.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I have managed to do another 1000 words to The Bones of Summer, and I even have a moment or two of excitement and plot turn at the end. Well I never! It took a while to get there though, but - once again - 'tis ever thus.

I'm hoping to watch my video of "Will & Grace" later on - oh, and I must video John Hurt in "Who Do You Think You Are" - and then this evening I'm out in Guildford, having dinner with the old University girls. Am feeling hugely twitchy about this, as we don't have a lot in common now and it's the first time I've actually met up with them since letting them know about the depression/counselling stuff I've been going through. And they're not the easiest people to have a conversation with about personal stuff. Which, in itself, is a terribly revealing statement to make after twenty years of knowing somebody, but there you go ... That's simply how it is. The added problem is the one acquaintance I feel more at ease with cried off at the last minute, so there'll just be me. And the two of them. Hell, maybe I'll book my place in the loos now ... Sigh!

Oh, and I've started what I think might be a comic anti-novel, about characters in search of a plot. Or an author. With special thanks to Erastes for the idea - though I promise not to use your line, Erastes!! That deserves its own novel, and you simply have to write it!

Today's nice things:

1. A haircut
2. Writing
3. Talking about writing.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website