19th January 2010

I was going to say well there's one embarrassing thing to report on so I'll get it out of the way - but actually as of the last 30 seconds make that two embarrassing things. I just sat down to finish off the day with a little blogging and lifted this mind-numbingly venerable laptop onto lap... and the power cord promptly knocked over my whisky, which equally promptly soaked into the thirsty carpeted floor. Now, this is a rented house and I ought to be concerned about the damage to the furniture and fittings, but the immediate thought that sprang to mind was 'BUGGER what a waste of alcohol'... closely followed by ... 'Oh well, it'll just evaporate, hardly need to bother mopping it at all'. I had just poured myself a very nice and generous helping too. Arse.

Second (or first if one is being tediously pedantic about chronological matters) is that I ended up at New Lambton Library, complete with child replete with anticipation, approximately 3.5 hours early for a comic reading of Roald Dahl's 'Revolting Rhymes', due to not having checked my details properly. There, I've said it. Most of these things are on at 10:30, but this one happened to be at 2pm. In fact (a further mitigating circumstance) there really WAS a 10:30 one... just at a totally different location. I feel almost completely exonerated.

Anyway, we had plenty to do in the library ( how sad does that sound - but alas it's true). One of the many small inconveniences of life pretty much as a beach bum is that one has no private access to those handy little amenities like printer, scanner, or copier... one has to rely on tediously distant and sighingly expensive public services of the same provided by places like libraries. Paperwork and sorting takes up an inordinate amount of time compared to the relative satisfaction one tends to derive from the completion of the task at the best of times. Once this is extended by the need to also travel large distances - and heavens help one, remember to equip oneself with all necessary components for the task - the duration of penance seems entirely disproportionate to the crime of simply living and breathing but there we are such is life. One damn thing after another, as they say. So, much photocopying, printing, downloading and general badgering about had to be done in any case, as well as copious exchange of books and heated exchanges with Lara to hammer home the notion that no she wasn't quite ready to take home 'The Similaroin' by Tolkien, even though it has a nice cover and looked pretty chunky.

Well, work and lunch later we came back to the scene of the crime, and this time it was suitably overrun with kids. Slightly more promising. "Aunty Peach" (obviously a resting actor earning her crust as a children's entertainer) proved to be highly satisfying to her audience. She incorporated all the necessary elements of little magic shows, preposterous hypotheses, audience participation and pantomime grimaces that are so integral to the happiness of under-6 clients. So we departed happy.

Evening activities included: beach. Windy, wavy and late (we only set out at 5pm), but Lara nevertheless entirely satisfied as the Ocean Baths were open, we built the by-now-obligatory seagull trap, and half-way through Daddymonster turned up. This last item was by far the most delightful event, as up till now she had been begging and pleading for me to take my 't shirt' (i.e. my denim dress that I wear over swimsuit on cold days) off to absolutely no avail. Now, Daddymonster is much more pliable. Within 3 minutes of arrival he was suitably attired and being summarily pushed into the water. They continued thus for quite a while. He's been working from home today but with one thing and another I think it's been a bit tiring - not least because next door is having a new kitchen put in and with partitions as delicate and wafty-thin as silk (or so it seems sometimes) we are treated day-long to sound-effects that leave us in absolutely no doubt as to which component is being knocked out, in, back or around, or drilled into the wall. This latter is possibly the most dentally painful of the lot. OH talking of which, very sorry to hear about the Woofie's oral trials and tribulations - having teeth ground down sounds... as awful as having teeth ground down, comparisons fail me to be honest. Hopefully the resulting end work is by now Hollywood picture-perfect, and what with the glittering smile and all the furious pedalling at the gym the Woof will now be quite ready for the appellation of Glam Girl 2010 of Treviso. Plus, there's always alcohol to help deaden the pain. (My poor whiskey...)

Ah well, meant to be short but you know how these drunks are, ramble on for ages. Better let you be. Lots of love, V xxxx