I visited a friend in Norwich this morning for coffee, with two others – we all used to be on the same committee and miss our get-togethers. Then, dropping my clarinet off on the way for a service, I went and had lunch with Weeza and Zerlina.
It looks as though the whole family will turn up again, first for the village festival on Saturday week and then for our party a fortnight later. We have invited five other people so far, must crack on and ask more.
I used to find it the most difficult thing, inviting people round. The Sage had to do the job. I was so insecure, I was quite sure that no one would really want to come and I’d have the embarrassment of listening to them make an excuse or saying that awfully false “oh, how lovely.” I’m not sure where that insecurity came from or where it went, but it has gone. Not that I do assume that everyone is desperate to come and spend time with me, but I am not afraid to ask. Or, when I am, I do it anyway.
The Sage has had a bonfire of the brambles that were removed from the hedges a week or two ago. A strong whiff of smoke hangs about him. I like the smell of a bonfire as much as anyone, but I’m glad he will have a bath before bedtime tonight.
I think being invited to your “estate” would be a pleasure. You all seem most interesting.
I’d never have thought you to have ever been the insecure type. I can’t imagine why anybody wouldn’t want to spend some time with you. As Marion said, you all sound so interesting.
I went to Norwich for a service yesterday too.
Having met Z in person, not only is she interesting, she’s lovely.
As you’re perfectly aware, I’m not above emotional blackmail and heavy hints…
It hardly needs to be said, Roses is one of the five…
Oh. The Sage has now changed the date. To one that doesn’t suit me. I wish he wouldn’t phone people before talking to me, especially when I’ve asked him not to.
Hello Z. Your blog entry reminded me of my late mother-in-law, who gave every impression of being the most socially self confident person I ever knew. But she told me that she never felt confident ‘inside’. She also said that even into extreme old age she felt exactly the same ‘inside’ as she did at sixteen. BUT, to the last day of her very long life, she had a glorious smile, a very gracious manner, liked people (she could always set people she had just met at their ease), and would join in everything. I think Ann and I were the only people who ever knew about her internal feelings of insecurity. She is of course very much missed.
There’s a lot to be said for you English gentlewomen (hope you don’t think I’m being over-familiar – don’t know whether to scrub this or send it).
Warm regards, Mike.
Thank you very much, Mike. I think the difference between then and now is that it’s now okay to admit it!
I remember being told once that that kind of insecurity was actually selfishness – because you were thinking of how you felt. Instead you should think of others and then you wouldn’t be so insecure. If that makes sense.
Indeed, that’s absolutely how I got over my shyness, AQ. I decided that it was pride and self-centredness, and once I realised that other people matter more than I do, I was half-way there.