Moanday

It’s Monday and I have lost the will to live. I have had no response at all from the last lot of job applications. Not even one of those ‘thank you SO very much for your application BUT ’ letters. I haven’t the energy to do another lot (although I will, I will..) and I have a deadline for a short story competition that I am nearing and here I sit, plucking out all the fruity bits from my trail mix and whimpering along to the Smiths. It doesn’t bode particularly well for the rest of the week.

On Saturday night I stayed over at an old friend’s place near Ascot. He has two sons aged 10 and 12 and they all initiated me in the culinary delights of the Racklette. This is basically a tabletop grill. One takes lumps of various grillable food items, arranges them on a little tiny grill pan and errrr…grills them…. The idea is to create your own mini stylish serving and then whisk it under the noses of the others around the table who have managed to set fire to their bread or lose their bit of pickle entirely, before stuffing the whole thing into one’s mouth and starting on round two. There was a great deal of butter and cheese involved and, for grown ups, a very decent bottle of wine and finally Irish coffee with double cream which meant that – having just been on a two week detox – I couldn’t sleep a wink due to the sound of my cholesterol rising.

I managed a visit in to my sister who is ‘vicar’-ing near Heathrow and got a chance to catch up with my phenomenal nephew. He is definitely 6’4’’ now and has more brains per square inch then anyone I have ever met. My sister has had a very bad flu-like virus for over a month now and is exhausted and pale. I try and get her to lie down after she takes morning prayer but the phone keeps going and chores line up and as I prepare to leave I know she is crossing her fingers when she promises she will take it easy. I raise a sceptical eyebrow to the heavens as I wave goodbye…she obviously believes in you oh sonorous, Anglican, beardy God and given that she is one of the few, it might be politic to cure her flu and give her strength back so she can tend to your obviously needy flock.

Ahh..what do i know eh? I don't even believe I exist.





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