Hello, hello! We have made it to July without an apocalypse. That’s no mean feat in these ‘interesting times,’ so we should celebrate by having a catch up. I’ll put the kettle on. You dig out the Hob Nobs. What’s occurrin’?
Well in this house there has been a great deal of weather and a lot of foot related shenanigans. Let’s start with the fact that every time I pack Martin, the most neurotic car in the world, to adventure northwards, I might as well engage canoe mode and get my paddle. Matt and I went off to the Yorkshire Sculpture Park a few days ago. The weather didn’t look too good when we set off, but I figured that it would dry up later and it wasn’t as bad as when I went to Sheffield. Ha.
We picnicked in a downpour. We saw sculptures in a downpour. We watched roads and paths turn to streams and rivers. We were soaked to the skin by the time we gave up. I spent three years living in Wales. I am used to inclement weather, but even I was ready to go home by the time we surfed out of the car park. Wet denim against your skin should be classified by the UN as an instrument of torture. Nevertheless I am glad I got to see the Damien Hirst exhibition. I’d say I’ll go again when the weather is better, but it’s so random I am making no promises.
In between that we are all boiling and the garden is parched. I went to water it last week and the hose split in about a thousand places just as the water poured through it and I was drenched. So that was nice. I managed to jerry rig things until the new hose arrived so that I didn’t have to spend my days forming a one woman human chain and running backwards and forwards with a gravy boat. I’ve just bought some new plants now that the lovely Helen has me organised and I am morbidly afraid of them dying in between her visits. I risked another hydrangea. Usually I kill at least one a year. I am hoping that Helen will not let that happen and for the first time in my life I will see one flourish. It seems like I’m asking a lot, frankly.
In toe related news, Oscar had his surgery on Thursday. He was very brave, but the injections were agony and even though he said he didn’t need to hold my hand, after the first needle we did, but we just didn’t look at each other, so it didn’t really count. Now he has huge, bandage wrapped toes and I have to change the dressings for him every few days until a check up next week, and then we shall see. He finishes school for the summer on Thursday and I shall keep him off. He already had someone tread on his toes once at school. I can’t risk it happening again now. Also, he can’t get his shoes on with his mummified digits. He is rather happy about this whole thing. As you can imagine. Although he wouldn’t let me draw faces on his dressings, which is mean.
Now that we are heading out of the woods with his appendages I thought it only fair that I steal the limelight. I managed to run into the corner of a marble plinth in our bathroom on Tuesday night and rammed my second smallest toe down into the body of my foot. I’m fairly sure it’s broken. The top of my foot is an interesting shade of navy blue as well, and I have been severely hampered in my Pokemon hunting this week due to a nasty limp. It is a difficult life.
In work related news, things are uneven. I have more clients for styling, which is my favourite bit, and is lovely. Sales are erratic. I did well last weekend, and sold one thing for the whole of the rest of the week, which is less fun. I also fell out spectacularly with a lady at eBay customer services who was obtuse and unhelpful and had passive aggression off to a fine art. I lost my temper in a way I haven’t since before I had a hysterectomy and spent the rest of the day wanting to burn something to the ground and dance in the ashes. Thankfully that mood had passed by the next day, especially because my toe will not permit dancing at the moment. Or running away from arson attacks.
I did go and visit a wonderful lady on Tuesday night who was selling off some of her vintage collection and I bought some lovely things, most of which will end up in my wardrobe, which is not so good profit wise, but lovely for me. She also let me go and look at the clothes she isn’t selling and I had one of the best hours of my life, looking at all her beautiful clothes. I have decided to let her adopt me. She doesn’t know that yet, but I’m sure it won’t be a bother.
I’m going through a fallow period, reading wise, which is not helpful as I have about eight books to review at the moment. I just can’t stick with anything and haven’t finished a book in a fortnight. I usually read two or three a week. I’m hoping that I snap out of it by the time we go on holiday. I’ve been spending my evenings catching up with Glastonbury footage on iPlayer. I am in love with Lizzo Beeting. That woman is joy personified. I also loved Janelle Monae, Kate Tempest and Christine and the Queens. All power to the girls, I say.
Mental health wise I am less anxious, which is good. It’s no fun thinking that you might just have a heart attack at any point due to raging anxiety about things you can’t do anything about and don’t want to even if you could. I have been a bit of a Pinball Wizard this week in terms of highs and lows, which is a bit knackering, particularly because the not sleeping and nightmares are still happening. I started using some CBD oil on a friend’s recommendation. I did get one decent night’s sleep, but I’ve also had two of the worst nightmares in living memory since then, so I’m not entirely sure what to make of things. I have nightmares anyway, so I’m not saying that these were because of the CBD oil. Who the hell knows? Anyway, I shall keep turning myself into a human guinea pig, and if nothing else it keeps my mind occupied in the wee small hours.
Tallulah is sixteen on Monday.