I can't believe it, but I'm actually feeling more like a normal human being today, bloody hell and put out the ruddy bunting. I feel today that there might actually be a glimmer of hope out there somewhere, but not of course in the publishing trade. That remains, as ever, a veritable pit of darkness and despair. Ah 'tis a place of strange mystery, Carruthers, from which nobody returns alive, or at least in human form ...
First thing this morning, I was bizarrely cheered whilst waving goodbye to Lord H to see a young man in a blue shirt walking an extremely large and very coiffured (is that a word?) poodle past the end of the garden path. It was really almost the size of a sheep. Perhaps it was a sheep, I don't really know. Strange things do happen in Godalming. But a poodle-walker is definitely a first here in the shires. For the rest of the morning, I have been having a wonderful massage courtesy of the lovely and really rather pregnant (should she be doing massage in her condition??) Laura. When she got to my notoriously stiff-as-boards shoulders, she was putting so much effort into beating the tension into submission that I feared she might give birth there and then. But luckily not. That would have been a terrifying start to my birthday weekend.
On the journey back, I was also cheered to see I was following a green van belonging to the Godalming piano company almost all the way home. I suddenly came over all 1950s - it felt like something out of "Dad's Army". I half expected the van to stop and Corporal Jones to appear. Oh God, I'm getting whimsical - I will have to be beaten into sense with twigs again. Sigh.
Later, I was planning to play golf with Marian, but she wasn't able to go after all due to the rigours of her week. Which, to be honest, suited me as my week hasn't been that good either (as you know, you poor people ...) and I was pleased for the extra quiet not-having-to-socialise time. But I'll pick up the golf again in a couple of weeks, weather permitting.
However, some sad news on my sick Guildford friend, which puts my self-obsessed and dark ramblings very much into perspective - unfortunately, she's still in hospital and not up to being visited much at the moment, or even being talked to. I really wish I'd gone to see her this week, as I'd planned, after all - I put it off entirely because of me and I hope I don't live to regret that decision. I hope Ruth from work and I will be able to visit next week. And I hope we can go together. Bloody hell, but sometimes other people's lives and the things that happen to them are just so bloody unfair that it makes me want to take God by the scruff of the neck and give him a bloody good shake. No doubt he feels the same way about me however. I just hope next week brings good news. Sick Friend deserves it.
For the rest of the day, I've been typing up the utterly huge amounts of Goldenford minutes I took last night. Girls, girls! You have so much to say and you say it soooo quickly! Highlights of the plans to come include a brief book signing at Waterstone's in Guildford on Thursday 10 July at 10.30am. Bearing in mind that they only actually have one copy of Pink Champagne and Apple Juice and they are refusing to buy in copies of either Thorn in the Flesh or Tainted Tree, I can see it's going to be a very short visit. Luckily they have copies of other Goldenford books, so we can at least try to hang around and beg people to buy them for a while before they chuck us out. My new theory is that actually bookshops secretly hate both books and authors, and are way too posh to be seen to be hobnobbing with the likes of us inky-fingered and suspect writers. It's like putting Cruella de Ville in charge of the nursery - she wouldn't really want to catch sight of the children.
Tonight, I'll be doing the cleaning so I don't have to do it tomorrow, as 21 June is an Official Writers' Day Off to celebrate my 44th birthday. Anyone who dares to write anything tomorrow will have to pay the forfeit of actually buying one of my hard-to-get books. Hey, think of it as a challenge ...
So, have a good weekend and, if you're not having one for any reason, you have my heartfelt sympathy. I know how that feels.
Today's nice things (especially for Jen):
1. The poodle
2. Feeling better, ye gods!
4. Piano vans
5. Getting the Goldenford minutes under control - of sorts
6. My 44th birthday tomorrow
7. Being able to laugh at Waterstone's.