All Things Being Equal

Oh what have I done?

Arranged for a leaving do for Liana in Murky next weekend when I am
officially the least hospitable person on the planet. The worst
hostess. Last time I hosted an abc tales party here I forgot to buy
anything to eat and Stormy had to make toast in the midde of the night
with bread that had seen better days. Then I forced everyone to play an
interminable game of Therapy and managed to pass out whilst upstairs
and left all my guests downstairs to get on with it. It was nice
falling asleep to the strains of hysterical laughter coming from
downstairs.

On the positive side I can take the opportunity to tidy the entire
house up. Fortunately a feather duster has come to light, tho I don't
really know what it was doing in the bathroom in the first place.

Have decided to hurl myself back into the diary fray after enjoying
other people's diaries. Freda's in particular. I have been thinking
about Chant's point about giving myself away. He is frequently
challenging and enigmatic.

The house has an air of gloom about it this morning after the England
defeat. Oldest son who has finished GSCE's is in such a state of
despond that he is playing oasis and tidying his room.

Middle son has slouched to school after trying to borrow my prison belt
to hold his trousers up. I am very pleased with my prison belt. I got
it yesterday and it gives me quite a frisson being macho leather with a
stern looking key pouch and a long chain. I have hung it on the back of
the bedroom door where it looks like a bondage accoutrement.

Took youngest to school in the van after the game. I thought it was
risky driving the van wearing only a sarong and no shoes and forgetting
to take the mobile phone. Van is liable to break down. Driving back I
saw all the England flags hung from windows and imagined they were
flapping disconsolately whereas yesterday they seemed jaunty and blew
cheekily in the breeze.

Have no work today so have decided to work on the kids' book which the
agent is waiting for. Somehow I keep putting it off. I can't imagine
why but it must be something to do with the fantasy or dream of being A
Proper Writer. What if the reality doesn't match up?

Instead of starting on the book I begin to make a list of things I need
to do in preparation for Liana's do. I won't do any of them but a list
in itself gives a sense of achievement. First item on the list: Buy
Snacks. I am distracted from list making by the sight of my prison
belt.

Working at the prison is more enjoyable than I imagined it could be.
Still I am not allowed to talk about it according to the Security Boss
who gave me a security talk yesterday. I was thrilled by it and briefly
fantasised working as a prison officer. They have big radios dangling
off their belts. If only I could have handcuffs and a small
truncheon.

Anyway it probably isnt suitable work for a poet.