It is the night of Mr. and Mrs. Ted’s visit, and I am starting on this early, just in case I do not feel much like writing it when they have gone.
I am feeling very troubled about this.
I do not want to drink too much by accident. The problem is that I have inadvertently become the sort of old lady who does things like that, along with driving too fast and getting into fights.
Regular readers will recall the occasion of their last visit, which was when I had to employ a ghost writer to complete these pages on account of severe tiredness and emotionality. It is not an experience that I wish to repeat, especially since tomorrow I have got to do all sorts of things that would be better without a terrific hangover, including going to a funeral.
The thing is, although I am perfectly happy talking into a typewriter, actual social interaction terrifies me, and I have to make a serious effort to muster my courage. Obviously this is facilitated by the excessive consumption of alcohol, and last time this is what I did.
It is not that Ted and Mrs. Ted are especially frightening. It is just that I can never think of a single thing to say to anyone. Once I have had a glass of wine it would seem that I don’t then shut up.
I have spent the day flapping about, as predicted. It rained terribly hard this morning, and I got completely drenched on my way up the fell. I was cold and wet and Roger Poopy got into a fight with another dog, whose owner said that it was my fault. I refuted this vigorously, as usually he is pretty good, in a disobedient sort of way, but then she started saying piously that if any children had been watching they would have suffered trauma, and that would have been my fault as well, at which point I told her that in my opinion she was a total idiot, and walked off.
I took a picture of myself on my way back down the hill, which is included at the beginning. I was so wet that the raindrops were blowing off my hair in the wind, causing a little shower of their own.
When eventually I dried off I went to Booths for some ethical shopping, mostly interesting cheese, and then after that I had to start cooking.
I made some mayonnaise, because we had run out, then I cooked a shepherd’s pie and a banana toffee pudding. I know that you are supposed to run those two words into one for that pudding, but I simply can’t, it makes me cringe with my whole being.
I don’t know how this took me all day, but somehow it did. Of course I had to do all of the usual things like bringing in logs and hanging up washing, but somehow I had only just about finished when it started to go dark and Mark appeared, which brings me to where I am now.
I am showered and changed and about to set the table.
I will update you later.
Wish me luck.
LATER NOTE:
Epic fail.
I have not stopped laughing all evening. I think Mark’s friend Ted is a bad influence.
We have drunk such an awfully lot, starting with champagne, and working through red wine and port before making our way to the cognac. It was a good cognac, but we seem to have finished the bottle.
The problem is that Ted and I are very similar sort of people, which obviously is why we both love Mark. Also I cannot help but like Mrs. Ted very much indeed. She is gentle and determined and eager, and is brilliant company.
The thing is that when you are having a good time with people who think the same things are funny, and who are scared of being social unless they are drunk, who like interesting cheese and who have got lots of interesting and entertaining opinions, it is very easy not to notice the empty bottles piling up.
I have had the loveliest time. I like Ted and Mrs. Ted very much.
I have eaten too much, and drunk far too much, and now, despite all my good intentions, I am going to have the most horrible hangover.
I am going to feel very sorry for myself tomorrow.
I am an idiot.
