Regrettably I have been drinking.
We have had a night off and I have had two glasses of wine.
Stupidly I did this before I remembered that I hadn’t got round to eating anything, which meant that I drank them quickly, because I was hungry, and then felt unexpectedly very drunk.
I still feel like that now.
Even some cheese and crackers as an afterthought didn’t help, and I am going to have to go and get Lucy from school tomorrow with a headache.
We went shopping. We did this even though we didn’t have any cash, because we had run out of things to eat.
By ‘run out of things to eat’ I don’t mean that the cupboard was bare. Of course there were still things like tins of sweetcorn and tomato puree and suet and raisins, because it is no longer the war and my definition of a bare cupboard would not be the same as my grandmother’s.
I mean that we had run out of anything meaningful and useful, like sausages and pizza.
We had also run out of things like flour and butter and loo roll, which are all jolly handy to have, and we were on the last of the coffee, tea and sunflower seeds.
Obviously some retail therapy was necessary.
Oliver refused to come.
Mark listened to me going on and on and on about my story over breakfast, and eventually decided that I was not in a fit state to go shopping on my own. This was because my whole soul is having a fit of excruciating anxiety over an unjust public execution and I am still trying to invade Lancaster.
He came with me, for which I was profoundly grateful.
I made a comprehensive list and we bought everything on it and almost nothing else. This was not an achievement, as it sometimes is when you are being self-controlled and sensible. It was a complete lack of interest in shopping.
This took our overdraft to its maximum point so we are hoping for a good weekend. Mark is sanguine about it because we are still collecting some late-valentines, and so we will probably be all right, which we always are in the end anyway.
I was still having anxiety, so I made some shortbread and a risotto with our newly purchased shopping for next week’s picnics and then went and wrote some more of my book, during which I drank too much. Mark went over to the farm even though it was dark, and put a new bit on my car.
This brings us back to the starting point of this entry, and, if I am honest, the finish as well, as I am going to go to bed and develop my hangover.
I haven’t taken a photograph.
Have one of Oliver.
