Sunday, 15 March 2009

Goodbye to Comic Relief/The First Cut

Thank you to all those of you who sponsored me so generously to write for Red Nose Day. I hope that you enjoyed your stories as much as I enjoyed writing them. So that's it for now folks. Back to normal and I'm doing it for free until I hit the big time.

Today is Sunday and my husband sneaked out of bed so quietly that I didn't hear him. This is unheard of (obviously) as on weekdays when he is off to work, he is anything but quiet. So why the rush? Yesterday evening, he took delivery of a lawn mower. This is no ordinary lawn mower. This is the cylinder mower of his fantasies, the type that does stripes. Actually, I encouraged him to make this purchase. In fact, I actively dragged him along to a proper lawn mower shop (yes, we have one in Horsham) because I was fed up with him moaning about the two rotary machines lined up in the garage, neither of which functioned despite having spent all of last weekend trying to change this. It is almost like he is off on a date with someone. He has got the children their breakfast, made me a cup of tea and I can hear him emptying the dishwasher. He is setting himself up for an uninterrupted session of indulgence. It's a bit early to cut the grass, maybe, but he did comment last night that it's surprisingly quiet so perhaps he was planning his early morning sortie, even then.

I wonder if I should throw my clothes on so that I can witness the event? My own early morning trips around the garden in my dressing gown with the dog have stopped since someone moved in next door. Perhaps I should just clarify that I didn't go out into the garden for the same reason as the dog, I was just his chaperone although by the look of me, I was probably the one who looked as if they were in need of restraint.

And talking of restraint, I've noticed something this morning. Every time I decide that I spend far too much time on the internet writing rubbish that no one reads, I start rambling even more. This is a little perverse. So am I writing because I know that no one will read it? Perhaps. I don't always keep a handwritten journal, partly because my hands are sometimes a bit stiff, but also because I touch-type and so the flow between my thoughts and the virtual page is faster than it might be on old-fashioned paper.

I suppose that the end of the Red Nose Day thing made me think again about what I write here now or even why I write here at all. I've also been thinking about what to do after the end of my MA course. Suggestions on a postcard please! So is that the answer then? Writing and rambling like this is a bit like sending a postcard. I'm here and you're there and I'm telling you what's going on. A little snippet of what's going on. So there you go. Yet again, I have found a satisfactory conclusion by plucking a metaphor out of the air. Oh no, there I go again ......

I think I should get dressed and do something useful. Have a good Sunday. Wish you were here.

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