I got myself into a radge this weekend. Is that the right spelling? Do I care? I went into Marks and Spencers yesterday and storked round the food hall thinking,
'Do they have any decent food in here?'
That's when I know things are in a bad way. I finished my book and now I'm waiting for my agent to pronounce it a load of crap. Of course she doesn't say but that's what it amounts to. When you have spent a whole year dedicating yourself to producing what you think at the time is the best thing since Georgette Heyer it's a nasty shock to hear it pulled to pieces and have to be put back together again at great cost to my ego and pain of all kinds.
The book before it is due out and now I'm not happy with it. I think it could have been so much better which is why I keep doing it again. I look at it and think a ten year old could have done better.
So, I went out to the garden searching for the odd weed which Howard might have missed. Fat chance, he was here yesterday and even the garden hose is neatly placed over the outside tap.
I moved books into different bookcases and I tidied the cupboards. I did the hand washing and hung it outside since it was such a beautiful day and then I got dressed and ventured into town.
Whittards is one of my favourite shops and the lovely young man in there is smashing and they are clever. They had teas to taste. Now I always think I don't like green or white tea. There is something about it which shrieks 'good for you' but this was the real thing. I bought extravagant Earl Grey, Goji Acai which is green but don't let it put you off. If Brad Pitt was a tea he'd be this one. All different colours and the lovely young man tipped it out, weighed it, put it in wonderful packets. It's the tea ceremony thing and it works. I bought a lovely see through tea pot and a warmer for if I want to strain and then leave it. I was in heaven. He gave me free samples and I thought this is what real shopping is all about. We chatted, he didn't try to get me to buy anything and I came out of there with the same feeling my lovely hairdresser Julie gives me. A new woman.
Okay, so it's a bit extravagant but I work hard and it's so nice to have things which aren't really necessary. I think I may be turning into the great aunt of Wooster fame who had no weeds on her drive.
I'm sure married people don't go on like this but when you are single ( and I've decided to call it that ) you have to create your day. It doesn't just happen.
I bought fabulous cheese, jambon ( or whatever the equivalent is here ) and garlic olive oil on a deli market stall and then to Body shop for stuff to pamper my feet. Lastly to M and S, and I'd sort of got over myself by then, I bought a newspaper (another addiction but hey, it's cheaper than cocaine), raspberries to go with cheese for lunch obviously, rye bread and then eggs. I did remember that Andrew Marr was on holiday so the start of my Sunday was ruined. I usually have bacon and eggs while he interviews the political world. Damn. Must he take holidays?
When the bus came I was very surprised for the driver to tell me that he had to go round again because he'd taken out the wrong bus! The lady behind me was very upset and moaned and moaned and bloody moaned. I did feel sorry for her husband. He looked like he'd had forty years of her moaning. If I had a week of her I'd strangle her. Poor bloke. Anyway, back to North Road and the other driver was waiting. Later we met up and he shouted at the first driver,
'Got the right bus then?' and we all had a laugh except the grumpy lady behind me who obviously laughs at nothing.
I came home very sweaty, went into my summer house with a large glass of ice cold fizzy and the I newspaper and was very happy.
Later I had the bread and the oil and the cheese and a small glass of sauvignon blanc and retired to bed to listen to Miss Marple solving stuff and I fell asleep.
This evening I have watered my pots. Very calming and then sat in the summerhouse and listened to Classic FM. Radio 3 in the late evenings tends to be very wordy.
I have made a list for tomorrow of the things I might do.
There was a big to do this week about how people living alone grew more. If so I should be an enormous tree. It's no worse and no better than any other way of living. Sometimes I would really like somebody there but it would depend on the somebody. In the meanwhile I'm very lucky in so many ways. I'm not like that poor man on the bus with a wife who never shuts up and I don't have to worry about the bills because I work and can afford daft things like white tea so I don't feel quite so arsey now. I feel that the gods have shone on me and grateful for it.