Lunacy

It has been a difficult day after a difficult weekend. I am blaming the howling gales that have been relentlessly tearing down our street and, of course, the moon. Saturday and Sunday lurched from being fraught to fantastic to fractious and I feel rather wrung out. Matt probably does too, given that I began the day with a spaz about not being able to find Radio Four’s Today programme on our bedside radio. I am not keen on the idea that I am someone who cannot function in the morning without routine but I do get a bit twitchy if I can’t hear the soothing tones of “Auntie” first thing.

It turns out that the radio had not been maliciously tampered with. The dial had not been accidentally nudged. My beloved husband had not, of course, sabotaged my early morning listening. Moreover, he was not actually directly responsible for the 24 hour strike by 11,000 BBC journalists and technicians which resulted in the radical changes to programming and thus my numpty confusion.

I apologised when I realised what a feckless imbecile I had been but still it was not a good way to start the week.

M x O +Bh (H + R) x S

I am very sad to hear about Kylie
but slightly strangely cheered by the idea of this

Baishakhi Mela

Spent Sunday celebrating the Bengali New Year in our neighbourhood… took a few photos …

Tentless encampments

So, it has been a bit of a strange week.

Today, I overheard a scruffy man with too many teeth say to a woman dressed all in black velvet, “How was I to know it would be full of hair?”

Yesterday, in our decidedly urban garden, a smatter of leaves landed on my head. I looked up and was somewhat surprised by the undercarriage of a rusty grey squirrel.

On Sunday, instead of asking if I needed any help, the assistant manager in a shoe shop vacuumed around my feet. Her colleague tried, unsuccessfully, to find the other half of the sandals I wanted to buy. He called Hoover Girl over to the storage shelves to help search and she told him he was “a useless twat”.

On Saturday, I dreamt about hedgehogs and rain tanks and rooms without walls.

On Friday, I received a text message from Auschwitz.

On Thursday, I asked a group of job candidates to do a presentation about themselves, which included naming their favourite film. One lad had chosen the movie Seven and illustrated this on a flip chart by drawing a (crap) picture of a severed head in a box. I won’t be inviting him back for a second interview.

On Wednesday, I received a cheque from the solicitors dealing with my uncle’s estate. I thought I’d be thrilled to get this unexpected boost to my finances but I just felt sadder than ever. I have heard people claim this before - and never really fully understood it - but I can honestly say I would give back all the money in a heartbeat to spend just one more day with him.