15 June 2010

It's the laptop issue that's really devastating this blog. What's holding me back from making this purchase? Money probably. And time? No. Not time. I've found time to write this, haven't I? I'm not sure where the blame lies. With me, generally and ostensibly.

I'm reading a wonderfully melancholy book which Chloe sent to me for my birthday. It's Good Morning, Midnight by Jean Rhys. I enjoyed Wide Sargasso Sea when I was 18. Midnight is more devastating than Plath, I would say. Rhys has taken me through the weekend, which was a long one, on account of the fact that I took Friday and Monday off to haul myself up to Inverness for the festival there. I made a little promise to myself to take it easy last week, in the days leading up to the trip, but it wasn't to be. I've had far too many dinners out. Far too many. I felt a quiet longing the other day for someone to make me a home-cooked meal. But, with no food in the house and scant inclination on my part, I think it will be to the restaurant again tonight. Doesn't that sound like a romantic life? It's like A Moveable Feast, except that I don't live in a hotel and I don't spend my days at the horse races...

I'd love to live in a hotel for a spell, wouldn't you?

Let me tell you about the festival. It was sublime! Disregard the weather, and the Scottish, and the lack of clean ablutions and the mud. Only consider the aspect of the lake and the mountains and the sound of the music and that great feeling when you're just dancing for hours and you've had too much wine. We had a ball. I especially enjoyed, to my surprise, Fat Boy Slim, Leftfield and The Strokes.

I new that I'd enjoy Blondie. She looks fantastic and she still gives a great show. I was not quite sober during her performance. At the end of each song, I yelled "Go Debbie" with desperate glee. I don't think she heard me. Nick thought perhaps she could because she has a Debdar - a radar only found in people with the name Deborah - I acknowledge that this isn't particularly witty, but I will admit that I was the one who came up with it.

It's football mild-fever at the moment. No one's too crazy about it. I was taken to lunch today but we sat too far from the screen for me to see New Zealand's goal. I had to ask the waitress who had won. She said that "the team in white" had scored a goal in the final minutes and that it was a draw. Okay, fine. They've done well.

We watched South Korea on a screen at the Drambuie tent on Saturday. I think they're a great team to watch. Perhaps it was the Drambuie, but I was charmed.

In other news, I haven't written you any poetry, painting is looking neglected on the easel and perhaps the dust gathers so much that it will add texture to the execution. I'm here at work rather too late tonight, on account of my long lunch on the agency's credit card (some are accustomed to these perks which are not to be had in public service). I'm taking this little break now, to indulge myself in a post and ease some of the unease that has grown out of the lack of writing lately, but breaks end.

And this one ends here.