Saturday April 26, 2008
Having dropped Graham off at the holiday camp for line dance weekend, I drove home, stopping off at Sainsbury’s for my weekend provisions. I was decidedly peckish when I’d loaded the bag into the car so, checking my coin purse, I was overcome with the urge for a mega-brunch breakfast: sausage, egg, bacon, chips, beans, tomato, mushroom. It is a good long time since I had such an indulgent breakfast so I didn’t feel too badly about it. And paying for such things with coins isn’t like spending real money.
I could extend that metaphor by saying that something paid for with un-real money has fewer calories but I’m getting almost as droosy thinking about it as I did when my tummy started digesting the meal itself.
Dolly and I spent a goodly long siesta stretched out side by side on the bed. It’s too warm still to sleep under the covers during the day, and I’ve pulled out all my spring/summer and early autumn short trousers out of the press, so my legs were only partially covered.
“Just as well you have your heat controlled by different means, Dolly,” I said. “You’d look awful funny in short trousers.”
She hurrumphed, and pressed herself against my legs to share the chill. There’s a quaint picture for you. Not an easy one to draw, though. I’ve not done figure studies of older gentlemen with large tummies before. Can’t say I’ve ever sought visual familiarity with large tummies at all, actually. I shall have to work on it. I have my old art school anatomy books somewhere.
Today I have to do house sitting duty, and take the errant viewing from the old agent. We’ve spoken to the new guy, seeking to assure him we’re not entirely happy about it, and are most certainly not trying to pull a fast one on him. He agrees with Graham, though, saying that any sale in today’s market is worth a try.
So I shall take the task seriously and have the house aired and pleasant by 14:15, ready for viewing at 14:30. It’s an escorted viewing, so I should be clear to cook my potato and bacon hash for lunch as soon as they’ve gone, and then take another siesta. It’s a circular old world.
Yesterday evening I sat down with a large glass of wine and tackled the job of transferring journal files for January 2005. The wine helped. I got past the entry for the 9th that I’d been dreading, and then gave up for the day. This morning I started my labours by finishing off that month, and now I’m ready for February.
I seem to have been on a watercolour painting and sketching kick back then. It’s odd, looking back on those pictures, to realise that I’m just about to go into another graphic arts exercise. When the words fail you, paint pictures instead. It’s always worked for me.