This weekend started with the Friday hangover - a trip to the latest UpDown private view, where I felt completely flakey, drank one glass and fled - this was followed by a visit from friends, and an interesting political discussion about Wapping, the miners' strike and the defeat of the British working classes and the failure of the left and the unions to work out a better direction to go in...
Saturday was a day when many free delights were available in the vicinity - we went to the open day at the Theatre Royal, heard a talk on its history, then stormed back to R - sat in the garden, because it was nice and sunny - the garden looked fantastic - full of intense colours, and different greens and purples this year... then drifted over to the park for the May Fair - better than past ones - well frequented, saw a couple of people we knew, but not many... heard some music, necked some Gadds... The whole day up to that point had been a bit bad tempered - my fault I expect, even though I had been largely on the ginger beer last night, I was tetchy, and unhappy, and oppressed by the sense of all that I needed to do. The day began very badly with a call about the mortgage - they know you are likely to be in on Saturday - so that's the day they ring. "You're hard up, you're unemployed and your mortgage is in arrears - so why the hell do you think you should be allowed to have anything approaching a nice weekend?"
We spent a little time looking at the various scenarios and the woman asked me about the savings accounts - which belong to the boys. I said I was unwilling to borrow money from them as Ned was off to university shortly and would be needing it. At the end of the phone call I began to think again about selling the house and moving somewhere smaller and cheaper (North Korea perhaps).
Then I discovered that neither of the boys was going to be in to eat tonight - this meant we could eat exactly what I liked for a change (Mark's tastes are close to those of the boys - so he gets what he likes most of the time). I decided I'd like paella - got some mussels from the harbour, lifted a recipe off the internet - and had a fruitless search for squid... but even without squid I made a very delicious paella in a regular frying pan. Sitting down together, having paella, an ok Pinot Grigio and a salad somehow was very satisfying and after supper I felt positively happy - despite the mortgage problems. I am weirdly convinced that being allowed for a change to eat what I liked was what made me feel better. I don't think any of them realise how many dreary little sacrifices I make every day...don't want to come over all martyrish, but this issue came forth when I had two large teenage boys shouting at me today - after I had arranged a decent picinic and simply wanted to find somewhere not entirely hideous to eat it in. But that's a different story...
Saturday was a day when many free delights were available in the vicinity - we went to the open day at the Theatre Royal, heard a talk on its history, then stormed back to R - sat in the garden, because it was nice and sunny - the garden looked fantastic - full of intense colours, and different greens and purples this year... then drifted over to the park for the May Fair - better than past ones - well frequented, saw a couple of people we knew, but not many... heard some music, necked some Gadds... The whole day up to that point had been a bit bad tempered - my fault I expect, even though I had been largely on the ginger beer last night, I was tetchy, and unhappy, and oppressed by the sense of all that I needed to do. The day began very badly with a call about the mortgage - they know you are likely to be in on Saturday - so that's the day they ring. "You're hard up, you're unemployed and your mortgage is in arrears - so why the hell do you think you should be allowed to have anything approaching a nice weekend?"
We spent a little time looking at the various scenarios and the woman asked me about the savings accounts - which belong to the boys. I said I was unwilling to borrow money from them as Ned was off to university shortly and would be needing it. At the end of the phone call I began to think again about selling the house and moving somewhere smaller and cheaper (North Korea perhaps).
Then I discovered that neither of the boys was going to be in to eat tonight - this meant we could eat exactly what I liked for a change (Mark's tastes are close to those of the boys - so he gets what he likes most of the time). I decided I'd like paella - got some mussels from the harbour, lifted a recipe off the internet - and had a fruitless search for squid... but even without squid I made a very delicious paella in a regular frying pan. Sitting down together, having paella, an ok Pinot Grigio and a salad somehow was very satisfying and after supper I felt positively happy - despite the mortgage problems. I am weirdly convinced that being allowed for a change to eat what I liked was what made me feel better. I don't think any of them realise how many dreary little sacrifices I make every day...don't want to come over all martyrish, but this issue came forth when I had two large teenage boys shouting at me today - after I had arranged a decent picinic and simply wanted to find somewhere not entirely hideous to eat it in. But that's a different story...
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