I am feeling very pleased with myself.
I have Achieved Things.
I put The Love For Three Oranges on my telephone, to encourage myself to channel my energetic Inner Self, the one that isn’t thinking optimistically about an idle retirement, and made curry and ice cream and Oliver’s protein drink. This does not sound like a lot, but of course it takes ages. By the time I had finished scraping ginger and peeling mangos I had thoroughly had enough.
I have crossed Jamie Oliver off my list of things I want to be when I grow up.
I contemplated making some biscuits as well, because I had been reading an article in the august Daily Telegraph about how bad for you shop bought biscuits are. I never buy biscuits, because you have to eat about half a packet before you even begin not to feel hungry, but I haven’t made any for ages, and I felt vaguely as though I was turning into a failure.
I reassured myself with the recollection that Oliver is going away next week, and Mark is offshore Until The Job Is Finished, so there isn’t any point. I like biscuits but they metamorphosise into lard the minute I eat them, and then settle down on my bottom in perpetuity.
There was a lot of washing up, and I scrubbed the thermal cool bag as well, ready for the Glyndebourne picnic, what an organised virtuous person I have been.
I was weary when I had finished that lot, and sloped off with a cup of tea to contemplate our relationship with the Inland Revenue. This is in a reasonably affable condition at the moment, although I have some anxiety about this being a continued state of affairs, because our accountant has just announced that he is retiring.
He is not old, just fed up of arguing with the Inland Revenue. I have a great deal of sympathy with that position, but nevertheless it has left me in a state of mild apprehension. He has named a successor, of course, but it would have to be a jolly good successor to be as wise and practical and sensible, also not to be concerned about some of my more catastrophic arithmetical howlers. I like our accountant, he is one of the foundation stones upon which our safe little world has been constructed, and I am not looking forward to his departure.
Hence I have started to pay rather more attention than usual to our online accounting system. I had considered installing Sage, but the accountant explained that I lack the basic qualification for signing up to it, ie, any grasp of figures whatsoever. Hence I am using a system which is not called Accounting For Total Boneheads, but which ought to be.
I am going to miss him very much.
Once I had sent the Inland Revenue some cash for which they had not asked me, but the absence of which was about to incur some interest penalties, I had had enough of that as well.
I mentally crossed Anything To Do With Sums off my list of things I want to do when I grow up .
I went up to the attic, where my sewing projects awaited.
They could not be addressed until I had first resolved the pile of ironing which I had thoughtfully placed on the top of the sewing machine, as a sort of insurance that I would not just ignore it and do nice things instead. Fortunately it did not take long, and I occupied the last hour of the day contentedly pinning and cutting the curtain tie backs for the camper van.
These are difficult because they have got piping around them, so I have got to concentrate really hard. I have got to think really carefully every single time, and sometimes try out a couple of Wrong Ways before I get it right.
I got the one that I was doing absolutely right, and felt very pleased indeed.
Truly I have Achieved Things today.
