Under the cat

Fell asleep under the cat out of sheer relief ~ I spend too little time on the sofa these days, no newspapers or tv since coming back from the States, too agitated, but soon, soon.

Three fine allotment holders visited today, armed with tea, sympathy and Fortnum & Mason cupcakes. And that stylish Russian woman from next door (just what has that guy got to deserve her??) came round, sheepishly, to say "I've had this envelope of yours for weeks". Yes! 'American Bungalow', here at last!

Sainsburger's this afternoon, where I bought everything I felt like & completely ignored that Nutritionist's list [since Feb I'd been conscientiously minimising dairy, cured meat, and anything remotely entertaining. It clearly made no difference whatsoever. My current target is to: eat. Therefore: I buy.] Hello again yoghurt, cottage cheese, salami, mackerel & pickled herring (can I offer you one, KW? Oh, go on, do try), you have no idea how much I missed you.

Gilbert O'Sullivan on the ipod [he'd be on my playlist, but he's too much of an anti-commercial snob to allow me to download 'Nothing Rhymed', in his garret, still recording, ignoring the world, sending out occasional missives, Emily Dickinson-style].

Aiming for an early night, tomorrow nothing worse than blood tests, hopefully. Builder didn't show up again. Nothing new there then.

It is becoming increasingly evident that a fair number of people very dear to me are reading this, for which I am inordinately grateful, and for some of whom this may be a slightly odd way to communicate, but nonetheless, we continue. So much love to all (and peace for me). xx