Woke up before the lark today. Beloved H had an early morning flight to catch, and considerately tried to walk on tiptoe in the dark. He's not v. good at this, so crashed into cupboard. Then crashed into sort-of-shoerack. Leapt out of bed and switched on the lights. Do not want people to think I'm a spouse batterer.
Cook, Cleaner and Driver broke into smiles when they discovered Beloved H was out of town- it's slack-off time for all of us. Esp. Cook. Don't blame her- am persuaded that Beloved H was a rabbit in his last life. Eats loads of greens and is very starchy about take aways. Cook has to spend at least an hour and a half slaving over a hot stove for him. For me, it takes 10 mins. max- I'd much rather eat out.
Did a spot of work in the day and wound up at 2 pm coz neck was screaming in pain. Degenerative tissues suck. Then lay down and spent a couple of happy hours reading Decline and Fall of a British Matron (by Mary Mitchell). Marvellous book. Caustic to the extreme and leaves you feeling a wee bit uncomfortable. Was first published in 1937 - those days the Brits could write! These days, um, not really.
Did my vampire thing after I was done with the book-waited for the sun to set before slinking off to the gym. Did a desultory work out, endorphins stubbornly refused to surface. Was obsessing over Pot Pourri's Pizza Funghi with bacon. Sternly kicked lascivious thoughts of 500-calories-a-slice-pizza out of head and went to new steak joint next to Toto's after gym. Glanced at the menu but did not order a thing. Am ashamed to say I could not read a word, point size very small. Okay, so I forgot my glasses. Once again viciously kicked thoughts of pizza out of head. Bought gigantic bar of chocolate from shop near Pot Pourri instead. Kicked wicked thoughts of Thums Up out of head too and started to wend my way home.
Had a temporary black out (alien abduction?) and when I came to, discovered that I was at Pot Pourri. Ordered a take away pizza, since I was there. Then went back to shop and got a bottle of Thums Up. Oh well. Will penitently ask Cook to make karela for me tommorow. Though knowing self, her dog will probably eat it the day after.