Legacy of Lattes, Oh, and a New Twinkle…
March 16, 2012 § 28 Comments
The date disappointment recedes, and remains but a residue like some silty sediment on the inside of a text tube following an evaporation experiment. A whole new twinkle hoves into view, exceedingly faint at this point, but a twinkle nonetheless. A potentially sparkly one, though at this point I am keeping my hopes and expectations very much locked up in a tiny trinket box.
Meanwhile, I press on.
Yesterday I did a cookery course, tra la! I had persuaded two friends, both astonishingly good cooks, to do a day-long course for six of us who had got stuck in a rut. I spent a joyful day in the company of seven good friends cooking simple but fabulous food. I felt guilty that I had taken the day off work but I thought fuck it, this is going to benefit my children big time and I also thought fuck it, if I don’t have a man in my life and the odd treat, well then I might as well crawl into a hole sooner rather than later.
Having said that, I am not a woman who feels she is entitled to lollop from treat to treat, who chain-treats herself like other people chain-smoke, because she has fuck all else to do, because she is brain dead and because she thinks she’s too bloody worth it. Apparently the banker’s wife in John Lanchester’s brilliant new novel Capital is of this opinion of herself, treat to treat to treat, and nothing in between. Inspired creation of his, by the sounds. Oh, he is brilliant! I haven’t read it yet but I have read his others and cannot wait to do so. It is on my bedside and I am yet quite to reach it, though I am nearly there.
No. Big treats and holidays are few and far between and I couldn’t care less. When they happen, I enjoy them but I am not of the mindset that I cannot do without them. Small ones are nice though. The night before last my oldest best friend came to stay – we stayed up talking and giggling till fuck knows what time, like schoolgirls, bliss! Followed by a day with a clutch (cluck?) of girlfriends warmly chatting and making and eating an epic spinach pie is my idea of a serious treat. (The secret is a few anchovies thrown in. They don’t really taste, you couldn’t even quite put your finger on the fact that they are there, but they enhance the whole enterprise astonishingly: who’d have thought it?). This weekend is another family birthday (one of my children). There’s going to be a huge Sunday lunch here (please expect a paltry post that day; cooking like a mad woman) and a girlfriend has just given me a new bundle of free Hot Drink vouchers from my local cafe. No end of blessings, in fact, each one being furiously and diligently counted!
So whilst Long Shot has not proved to be anything more than I expected and my whole being clearly did fuck all for him which was underwhelming for the self-esteem to say the least, I am finding consolation elsewhere and, as I say, very much pressing on.
Even if I am not allowing the new twinkle to put a spring in my step.
At any rate, not just yet…