The wind is up. The temperature is down.
I nipped over to Marks and Spencers and bought some reduced Easter eggs even though they were still three quid. We all have to eat so much chocolate we feel sick at this time of year. It’s what our parents taught us. I bought a very phallic chocolate carrot and a more traditional egg shaped egg and I still spent six quid on sculpted sugar.
After Christmas they immediately put the Easter eggs on the shelves, but now we are allowed a little pause before it’s all the barbeque stuff. The Christians never really colonised midsummer so it’s just a thing that happens, and it’s a long way away yet. Much to do between now and then.
I did manage some small packaging of things, but man it’s tricky. I keep running into memories. All sorts of associations. Max came round this evening and he is happy to take the fish, which is burden off. Since chippy died my heart hasn’t been in them. That tank going will clear some headspace for sure.
Books. So many books. I might venture to say too many books but there’s no such thing as too many books. But too many for this flat. They all just add to the higgledy-piggledy character, but if I’m gonna rent this place I’m gonna have to get everything out sharpish. I try to sort them out and I end up reading one. There are traps everywhere. I might have to pretend there’s an imminent and terrible deadline. Knowing that the only deadline is eventual financial ruin through service charge and council tax, I’m slipping again, letting life be too distracting.
I tried for an early bed and thought I’d manage but then realised I had forgotten to eat so I’m cooking a quick chickeny thing. I’ll still manage an early bed – it’s only half eight. The world outside is hostile today. Aggressive wind in from the river. Buckets of rain, but it appears that none of it is coming to visit me in my bedroom. The hammery men must have achieved something on their little bit of expensive scaffolding above my roof tiles.
A day with a little job list tomorrow. Then a hiatus while I wait for boxes to be delivered. I’ll go to Brighton. Joy. A chance to chill coming up so hopefully tomorrow will be an active one here, and I don’t just pick up a book again.
Chicken time… Then bed and that lovely sensation of being warm and cosy as you hear the hellscape outside.
AlBarclay 