I’m planning to meet a friend for coffee tomorrow. He’ll be on his way to the airport though, so I’m wondering where to suggest meeting. I won’t reply to his text until I’ve come up with an answer, dithering is so boring.
I still haven’t booked tickets for London either, two journeys, one with an overnight stay. I’ll get it all done this weekend. I didn’t sleep again last night – that is, I fell asleep, woke an hour later at 2 am and lay awake for several more hours. I wasn’t worrying, just not sleeping. It really is a nuisance and I can’t see a reason for it. I’d have got up, but the Sage put his arm round me and went back to sleep and I didn’t want to disturb him. In the end, I gave up trying to sleep and entertained myself with my phone for a couple more hours until it was light. I’ve never been the soundest sleeper, but this has happened twice now – albeit the first time, I had no sleep at all – and I’d just as soon it doesn’t happen again. I shall give it some thought. I did try giving up caffeine in the evening for several weeks, but it didn’t seem to make any difference at all – I’m glad to say.
It’s surprising really that the Guy Fawkes thing hasn’t fallen foul of the laws against incitement to hatred or something, one can hardly believe that it’s still all right to burn an effigy on a garden bonfire. Still, no one seems to mind the idea. We can’t all get together tomorrow, in fact, and are saving it for Sunday. It won’t prolong the noise of fireworks to annoy neighbours, we’ve got quiet ones suitable for small children to watch. The Sage’s father, (whose name was Guy!) celebrated his birthday on 5th November, so there has always been a party, but Weeza and co are going to a wedding tomorrow. They’re not going to the party in the evening, just staying for tea and cake after the service. Zerlina is looking forward to the cake.
My sister-in-law spends a lot of her time visiting her family, and is going to Italy for Christmas with her son and his partner, so she phoned last night to arrange to meet in early December. Her sight isn’t up to driving, so she comes to Norwich by bus or train from Cromer and we meet for lunch. Looking in my diary, I had great difficulty finding a possible day and we’ve had to settle on a Saturday. Mind you, she’s just as busy. When we phoned suggesting a meeting in the summer, she couldn’t fit us in at all. She’ll be 80 next year and is as busy and energetic as she ever was – and she looks the image of her mother. I wonder if I’m turning into my mother, too. I suppose it’s bound to happen.