Dances with Sheep

Rejoice!  I have a new laptop, courtesy of some unexpected nuns at St Matthews (you don’t expect nuns at St Matthews under any circumstances, as those of us who know Leicester will assure you).  They were lovely people – unhabited and very generous, giving me a really nice laptop with linux already on it.  Sadly it won’t connect to the internet but that’s probably a good thing because every time I come to a creative halt I tend to ‘just have a quick look at facebook’…

Mark had a dream last night about ______ (someone of our acquaintance): she wrote him a letter on the outside of an A4 envelope and suggested he should take homeopathic hematite: I laughed because this is exactly the sort of thing this person (let us call her Pita*) would do.  At a distance, she is hilarious and would make a good Dickens character: I was once at her house in what she laughingly called her ‘sitting-room’ which was strewn with old clothes, dirty clothes, clean clothes, toys, papers, books and other unidentifiable objects.  She sat on the floor in the midst of all this – as did we, there being no room on the sofa – and, taking a piece of card from somewhere, proceeded to pick up tiny pieces of fluff and dirt from the carpet and put them on the card.  It might have been tidying – it might have been art – but when the kettle boiled she got up and caught the corner of the card, upsetting it all back onto the carpet.  We very unwisely helped her move house (this was before I’d got to know her) – when we arrived at her home in Sussex she hadn’t packed anything and the kitchen was full of unwashed plates: in the end we had to take the dirty washing-up with us.  She’s the sort of person who is hilarious at a distance but utterly enraging if you have to have anything to do with her: I was quite literally dancing with rage over some of the things she did.

On a lighter note, I have had an email from Mary in Mexico.  She attached some photos, including one of her looking very tanned (chiz chiz chiz) sitting with a sewing-machine and about an acre of white canvas, apparently sewing something technical onto the edge of the sail (splicing the mainbrace, perhaps?)  It’s a hand sewing machine, so that must have been hard work.  I think they are planning to go sailing in Feb.

Today as well as killing Mark (don’t ask) I shall be finishing my memoir of being a VK (Vicar’s Kid) and sending it off to Fish publishing.

*short for Pain In the Arse

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Filed under friends and family, short stories

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