I am feeling very grumpy indeed.
I have spent all of today being cross with the world. This does not make very much difference to the world when you are in the kitchen by yourself.
This is, of course, partly because I have reached That Certain Age.
I always know when I am beginning to be a touch hormonal, because I can’t bear to listen to anybody eating. The sound of other people chewing their food creeps into my inner being and makes me shudder with fastidious horror.
When I am really hormonal this even applies to me. My very own dinner makes me cross beyond words.
I know this is mental. You do not need to write to me and tell me.
This might have had some beneficial side effects for my waistline if I hadn’t resolved the issue today by turning the radio up. Also, it was not poor Roger Poopy’s fault that he was making a ghastly slurpy noise in his bowl of water this afternoon. He had got no idea why I was not pleased for him to leap all over me afterwards, showering drops of dog-dribble in his happy certainty of a welcome.
I have been cross. Everything is too much trouble, and I have been feeling drearily sorry for myself all day. I was even cross with Mark, who did not especially mind about this because he was out at work. I was on my own, and cross.
I was cross really because I would like a holiday and can’t have one. This is the time of year when nobody gets in taxis and so it is all right to go away, because you don’t miss anything much. We have got the beautiful camper van parked in the middle of Windermere but we can’t go anywhere in it because Mark has got to go to work all week and I have got to go to work all weekend.
I am trying not to mind about this because he is enjoying his new job very much, even if it is not paying him any money, but I do mind, really, in my secret heart, because we promised ourselves for ages that we would do this when January came. We thought that once the children had gone back to school, we would go and explore the beaches and the fells with the dogs and then sleep overnight in the van instead of going to work sometimes.
I am feeling especially sorry for myself in my inner soul, because although Mark is enjoying his new job, I am not enjoying the housework, and I would like to do something nice instead.
I stalked gloomily around the Library Gardens, grumbling to myself. When I came back I brought in the logs and baked a walnut and cherry cake for Mark to eat at work. Then I washed things and tidied things and went upstairs to write letters and arrange our lives into a state of tidy cohesion with the outside world.
I found after a while that to be sitting quietly at my computer was soothing for the soul. When I realised this I helped the process along with a steaming pot of amber-coloured chai and some home-made ginger shortbread. These helped me remember that somebody loves me and wants me to be happy, even if it is only me.
I resolved the eating-noise difficulty by dipping the biscuits in the chai, just so you know. You have to wash the cup up quite quickly after you have finished or the residue in the bottom turns into a sort of sticky resin. I know, because I forgot to do this.
Once I had finished all of the important letters I should have gone out to work, but I was tempted into continued idleness for just a little while longer.
I sent a copy of my story to somebody and applied to somebody else for a job reading manuscripts. This idea cheered me up a bit, especially since it is the sort of job that can be brilliantly done whilst I am already doing my real job, and also it would mean that I could sit and read all day with a clear conscience.
I am not sure that I am exactly a brilliant candidate for the job, especially because at the bit where it says ‘current employment’ I have to put ‘taxi driver’ instead of ‘editor of the Guardian’, but it has filled me with optimism.
Being cross is not helpful. I am going to have to do something different.
I don’t yet know what, but definitely something.
Watch this space.
The photographs are our holiday last year, which was ace fun. It has given me a small happy feeling just to look at them.
