I am sad today. I don’t want to be in London. I want to be in Cornwall celebrating my son’s wedding.
The frustrating thing about this virus is usually we have a semblance of control over what we do, who we are with and how we think etc. But with this virus we feel control has been taken away from us because IT has the control and IT is deciding on what we do and who we can meet and, in some way, how we think.
When I awoke this morning the full impact of us not have the wedding this weekend hit me, and I had this empty feeling. It was like the feeling one gets when one is hungry, but nothing satisfies the hunger. So, I set about de-cobwebbing the house and taking out my frustration on the spiders that were hiding in the corners of the rooms. It didn’t help much. Still feeling empty.
I know in the scheme of things with over 40,000 dead and economic disaster cancelling a wedding is minimal but when not much else is going on in your life having something to look forward to is very important. And at the moment there is not a lot on the horizon to get excited about.
In four months besides developing an unhealthy relationship with the inanimate objects in my house I have seen very few people and, apart from the disastrous foray last Sunday to Hampstead Heath, I have not left my house and park for 4 months. So, it’s no wonder that cabin fever is setting in
And to top it all today I got my my quarterly financial statement, which was depressing, a letter from an insurance company saying they had overpaid me £1,800 and please could I return the money and the news that my roof needs urgent repair. And of course, there is still the matter of having to replace my boiler. So, all in all not a great day.
Yes yesterday I said that my post today would be a bit more upbeat. Well I lied.
I just came across another box of letters that had been hiding in the loft. I know really how many letters can a girl have – well it would seem hundreds. I come from a long line of hoarders. Chucking out doesn’t come easy to us. Its genetic. Actually there were two boxes but one was Tod’s school and college stuff, his writings, all very personal and it felt like an intrusion to go through it so it’s going back in the loft and it can be dealt with by the children when I am no longer here.
But the other box was an interesting mix of letters from old boyfriends, songs dedicated to me – I had a penchant for musician’s, love letters from Tod, essays from my brother. There was one letter – 30 typed pages long. He has got the ‘knowledge’ from Guru Maharaj Ji. Remember he was the little, rather overweight Indian boy, who rode around in Rolls Royce’s. “Well you don’t expect him to walk do you,” said my brother when I enquired why he needed such a big car. I am all for alternative religions and whatever works go for it – it’s just the preaching bit that I find tiresome.
For those who don’t know this particular Guru at the age of eight, Guru Maharaj Ji was delivering the spiritual discourse of the eternal wisdom to large audiences. Brian once persuaded me to accompany him to a meeting with the Guru when he visited London and we had an almighty row because I refused to kiss the Guru’s feet, which apparently was a great insult. “It an honour,” said my brother. “I don’t need an honour,” I replied.
This is not how he looks now – probably circa 1970
There were also a few quite nasty letters from ex boyfriends who were not happy with the ex-bit. Most are now in the bin. But I am enjoying reading all my mother’s letters to me – she was a brilliant witty writer and it evokes some wonderful memories and all the letters that I wrote to her – she kept every one of them. Even those I wrote to her from camp aged 10. I did say we were a family of hoarders.
I also came across a note my youngest son wrote to me when clearly, I was not flavour of the month. “I hate you mummy – you are the worst mummy in the world and I ‘m never going to speak to you again” Reminds me of my running away letters!
It’s date night tonight for Toby and Linda so I shall make myself scarce. I could finish cleaning the windows, I could wash my hair, empty my emails, watch Netflix, read or play bridge. I think the latter is probably in need of most urgent attention. My partner is about to divorce me as I played probably the worst game ever last night. I disgraced myself, thoroughly and am suitably embarrassed. So tonight, I will join an online game and improve – she is giving me one last chance to redeem myself!
Enjoy your Friday night – think it’s time for a single malt
“Let’s be careful out there”