Good evening Bloggets. Today I had a visit from my lovely
friend Arty. Gosh can we talk? There are never silent moments with us both.
My Son and I are about to have dinner. He’s kindly treating
me! Hub is away as he was up at silly hour this morning to make the long
journey to work by train. Three hours today and on a packed train. Hardly any
room for the poor LF. Little Fella will enjoy his job today though there will
be a lot of boring moments as there are presentations to be listened to and Hub
I think is presenting too, but a different environment for the Little Fella,
back to the hotel and out for dinner and it’s a walk there and back so LF will
be smiling all the way with his huge bushy tail curled around like a cats tail
and late tonight, back again from the restaurant / pub to the hotel and an
early start tomorrow with another day of whatever before returning home by 9 pm
For the past two days my eyes have been killing me like hot
blood rushing around them I don’t know why I have to have stupid eyes that
can’t see and pain too? It’s like blindness isn’t enough punishment.
My Son was listening to swing music before big band stuff
and now, oh, my, it’s awful. Some guy talking his way through a drum beat. It’s
cruel to the ears. He sounds stoned as if he should be straight from the
seventies. I mean, talking about those days, remembering cassette tapes when we
could make the music sound as if it was playing backwards, well, that’s just
what that awful stuff I refuse to call music sounds like upstairs.
So, there will be no cosy TV time tonight with Hub but loads
more time to write. Yesterday I got up to 11,778 words for my book, see what I
manage by the end of the evening.
I was reading/listening the other day an author talking
about branding. How to brand your work. Hmm. I’m not sure I have a brand. Just
look at my blog page to tell you that. Especially going back some years as in
those days, most of my blogs were heavy, rather serious and at a flick of a
page, they would be positively crazy with loads of thoughts and opinions that
could be considered controversial to some, but to me truthful times.
My Son is going out at 9 pm and I really can’t believe where
he is going. Over two and a quarter hours drive, to pick up a car, for
Shamrocks Father. Two and a quarter hour each way at 9 pm? What kind of place
is open then? Gosh, I feel sick with that thought, especially because
apparently Shamrock is driving and she has been working from seven this morning
till seven tonight. It’s a world I really don’t like. Why can’t my Son meet a
girl who lives a normal but exciting life? I wonder how old he will be before I
stop worrying about him?
His ex was a mess, beautiful and very rich, quite clever,
posh and a total headcase. Her family were pure evil. At least Sham isn’t like
that. But her family are let’s say, well, I’m not really sure what to say. I met
her Dad a few weeks ago and he was lovely, but it’s little things like tonight,
picking a car up for his new job all that way at this time of night. It doesn’t
make any sense. And BW believes everything others tell him.
I do wonder if we hadn’t have moved to this area if my boy
would have met a different kind of girl having said that Shamrock is the total opposite
in every single way to his ex. I mean, you couldn’t get more opposites if you tried.
Out of one million girls his ex and this one couldn’t be like any other girls
out there. And so far from being similar to each other.
Oh, I have to just get lost in my writing now and try to
forget that it’s wet dangerous driving, Sham driving and has only been for a
year and a bit, and she will be tired not in the mood to drive. I just don’t
know why her Father couldn’t get a train to where the car is during the day or
get his future Son in law to drive him there as he has more experience in
driving and he doesn’t do long hours at work like Sham.
Seriously, life is like finding a deflating balloon
wondering who blew it up in the first place, who’s air/breath is in the found
balloon? Unanswered questions. It’s almost as bad as when I used to visit
Russia all those years ago.
No comments:
Post a Comment