annanotbob's Diaryland Diary
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The meanest old woman that I've ever seen
I'm going to do an afternoon entry today because I must have an early night tonight. Tomorrow Sara and I are going for an arty day in London, starting with Tate Modern, then an open-top bus tour while we eat our lunch (pans bagnats, yet to be made), Tate Britain and finally an opening at the Saatchi Gallery for which Sara has somehow procured tickets.
It makes me tired just thinking of it - I hope it's not all bloody installations and shite like that. Personally, I would have liked to see the Gay Icons exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery (ten or twelve prominent gay people asked to nominate their iconic figures - I'd love to see who Sandi Toksvig chose - I'd choose her), but this is Sara's (somewhat belated) birthday present so she gets to pick. I feel like a wild thing, going to London twice in two weeks, which is a bit sad as it's only forty minutes away by train. I'll probably be whizzing up and down all the time once the kids are living there. Or not.
Which reminds me, Ren's been on holiday in Rhodes (Greek island) and I thought he was back this morning so I phoned him up. He sounded completely panic-stricken until we established that he was still there, sitting on a beach in the sunshine and that no, no calamity had occurred to occasion this unprecedented international maternal call. Just a mix-up, but we were both freaked out for a few moments there.
So, here I am stoned in the afternoon, with Bob Dylan's Theme Time Radio Hour nice and loud. Mental man - street signs - what kind of a theme is that? Blissful, that's what. Currently playing the (acapella) original demo of 'Hit the Road Jack' by, I think, Percy Mayfield. Love him. But he is distracting so he'll have to be turned down.
OK, this is the coat I bought in Portobello Market:
as referred to in stepfordtart's last entry. She is such a sweetie. In reality it makes me look even more like a demented old bat than usual, especially with naked hairy legs and flip-flops sticking out the bottom, but I got a bit carried away and bought it. I think its main problem is length - too long. Sara says yeah, length, shape, thickness, fabric and colour - apart from them it's great. Fuck her, I shall cut the bottom off and make it into a long, arse-warming jacket.
Did I say we're going to Spain? The Pennsylvania wedding was too hard - too far, too expensive, too complicated, too reliant on the kindness of strangers and altogether too anxiety-provoking. But we got well into the idea of a trip before Sara starts college, so the new plan is to book a last minute package holiday when the cheque clears on Friday. Exciting - we're leaving on Tuesday and don't even know where we're going! There's loads of stuff available though. Today we could have got flights and self-catering apartment for £191 each in Barcelona. What we want is the chance to practise our Spanish; warmth and water in close proximity (pool or beach right there to cool down my heat edema); nice proper foreign food; reading, writing and drawing and a new setting for our squabbles.
Laters xxxx
4:25 p.m. - 26/08/2009
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