Writing to the PM

The trouble with the podcast is that once my excitement with that had faded, I lost enthusiasm. I haven't done a scrap of writing for months. It was fine in the beginning because I had the podcast to blame but now I have no excuses.

In fact, having finished the podcast, which was, after all, intended to be a little tempter to buy the next book, I should have been in all sorts of a hurry to get said book finished.

Ho hum.

The good news is that I have opened my manuscript today. That's all. I haven't written anything but it's a start.

And a reminder to me of where it finished. I'd completely forgotten that part of the story. So there's hope for me tomorrow.

I say I haven't written anything but this very afternoon I wrote several emails. Can you guess to whom I wrote? No, you'll never be able to guess so I'll tell you.

I wrote to the Prime Minister, my MP, and the leader of the Labour Party. Are you impressed? 

David was so fed up of me grumbling about the way certain members of the government seem to think it's fine to lie he told me to do something about it. In fact, he was quite snappy with me. It wasn't my fault. I thought he was, like me, lying awake turning things over in his head; I had no idea he'd just dropped off to sleep when I started complaining.

So I think he thinks I wouldn't do anything so I have. So there. And if more members of the public had my strong sense of morals it might be possible to effect a change. 

I said something similar in my letter but possibly wishing Carrie and Wilf all the best, and asking for a photograph, might have diminished the impact.  

Grazing is the new norm

Before lockdown began, Chloe, with unexpected foresight, taught Mum and Dad how to skype so we have regular catch-up chats, or rather, we have monologues from Mum telling us how she is convinced their next door neighbour is breaking curfew. In fact she only phones when she has new 'evidence'. 

Chloe also gave Great-aunt Millie lessons so she too calls us at random hours, asking when we're going to take her sausages, and have I let my husband have a shed yet. Auntie Millie hasn't quite got the hang of it though and holds the phone to her mouth every time she speaks resulting in some very unwelcome close-ups of her teeth.

Still technology is wonderful - I think if I keep telling myself that I'll believe it eventually - and a wonderful way to keep in touch with the children. When they answer their phones that is.

Did I mention that I finished recording my podcast? Since then I seem to have to been in a bit of a slump, lacking the impetus to do anything.

Except eat. I am eating from morning till night. David calls me his little grazer. I try to tell him it's natural; have you ever seen a gorilla without something to eat in his hand? But even I don't really believe that.

Still these are extraordinary times and extraordinary measures are called for. Now where did I hide the chocolate bar?

A glowing review!

Debra, who's been listening to my podcast, wrote this:
"I laughed SO hard at Page One Girl, Benito the Giraffe and Leonard Cohen, and Charlie and the Sock!"

It's so good to know I'm entertaining people even if inadvertently. I think I mentioned that I had been considering a career move into stand-up comedian. It is a wonderful feeling when people laugh at you. With you I mean!

But most of my humour comes from me just living. It's not clever or witty or political satire. It's me burning bacon or jumping to conclusions, inevitably the wrong ones. You'd think I'd learn. 'Probably too late now.' David was reading this over my shoulder and he said that. If he hadn't been bringing me a cup of tea at the time I might have thumped him.

We had a lovely walk this morning with Lady by the river. Our favourite routes have been getting a bit popular of late, with people having to stay close to home, and I thought the river would be popular today but once we got away from the main starting point it was fine. Idyllic in fact. I might just have flung my arms out and started singing, 'Oh what a beautiful morning,' which has become my habit. To everyone's regret. Even Lady gives me a 'Must you?' look. 

But really? How could I resist?

Chattering teeth

I don't have much more recording to do for my podcast. Another two or three will episodes will probably see me through to the end with a postscript.

I have had to build myself up to record the next chapter. It covers a difficult time in our lives and - SPOILER ALERT - though I know the ending it's still unpleasant remembering it. Still it must be done. And I will. As soon as I've put on an extra jumper: it seems to have turned very cold today. In fact it was warmer outside this morning for our daily walk with Lady than it is in the house. Would it be very bad to turn on the heating?

Done. On the grounds that I can't make a recording if my teeth are chattering.

Still crazy after all these years

I'm not ignoring you, honest! It's just that I've been very busy lately recording my podcast. Remember? The serialisation of what I like to call my memoir.

The bits I've been recording recently have been very funny. Well, I think so anyway. At one point in my diary I wonder if I missed my vocation in life; if I could have been a stand-up comic like Victoria Wood. 

Of course since I wrote my diary Ms Wood has died. Much too young. So much more she could have brought us. As it is her legacy will live long. I have a CD of hers and I can't listen to it without almost wetting my pants, it's so funny.

Anyway, I hope you're listening to my podcast and I hope even more that you're enjoying it. (Although if you're not listening then that hope is irrelevant.)

I am coming quite close to the end of the book now. When it's finished I'll be able to get back to writing the sequel, which has taken second place to the recording and editing process.

In many ways this lockdown has been useful. In other ways not so: I have moments when I go crazy but as David says, 'I've been putting up with your craziness for years; it's about time you experienced it yourself.'

I'm still wondering how to take that.

There are treats and treats

Making the most of the unseasonably warm weather and sitting out in the garden. I'm reading while David treats the garden furniture ready for the summer - unless this is it.

I said I could do with a treat and he offered to rub me down with some sandpaper.

I'd been hoping for something a little more chocolatey.

My birthday day

We had a picnic! (In the garden in case you're worried about breaking the social distancing rules.)

Those of you who've read my memoir or who've listened to it on podcast will know that we went on a picnic for one of our first dates. Then we were in a wonderful little spot overlooking the sea, and David didn't know I didn't like mustard.

We used the picnic blanket and sat on the grass, and David served up delicious warm baguettes stuffed with cheese and bacon. Hm, I fear my bad eating habits may have rubbed off on him. But you really can't go wrong with cheese and bacon. Then we lay back in the sun until a cloud came over and David suggested we remove ourselves to the bedroom ...

Much later my wonderful man cooked dinner for me: smoked salmon with crab mousse (from M&S), shepherd's pie (his speciality - you've never tasted shepherd's pie until you've tasted David's), and sticky toffee pudding with clotted cream (from M&S).

It's a good job we, um, had our little rest in the afternoon as I certainly wouldn't have been up to any bedroom activity after dinner. In fact just getting upstairs was a challenge.

Incidentally he does now know why I cross my legs when sneezing ...