Things are progressing nicely. My passport has arrived, duly visaed, I’ve picked up my daily contact lenses as well as the usual monthlies and I’ve bought mozzie repellent and sunscreen in bulk. Wink and I have just had a conversation on the phone and are in complete agreement – that is, that we don’t want to rush around sightseeing in between parties but are content to move about gently and chill in nice hotels, keeping the wedding ceremonies (bride Hindu, groom Christian, albeit also Indian) and receptions as the main events. We’ve also agreed to go to Heathrow the night before departure, and Wink will book the hotel. She’s also investigating hotels in Chennai and in Pondicherry. Since I’ve sorted out the aeroplane tickets, this seems a fair division of labour (I must remember to take the credit card I booked them on, apparently. All this remembering is tough on a frivolous little thing like me, I prefer to let go of things once arranged to my satisfaction.
So now a short break in writing while I make coffee. ‘Scuse me.
Right. Chocolate truffle and coffee in front of me.
The catalogue for the Sage’s next sale is at the printers and Ro is trying to work on the website tonight, but Skydrive won’t let him access the photos, even though it clearly says at my end that he has permission and I can’t see a time limit. Hmmm. Since our internet is deadly slow now, it takes ages for anything to happen at all, and I’m still trying to check it out. Honestly, darlings, it’s a good job that I’m as remarkably patient as I am.
Still waiting. Eaten chocolate. Sipped coffee.
I’ve sent the file link again. No idea. Poor lad gives his time and expertise, I hate him being messed around like this. Fingers crossed that the sodding thing works this time.
The Sage and I bought some plants today. Well, that is, he came with me and spent ten minutes helping, then he vanished without saying anything, me waiting patiently, then impatiently. Finally, I went and found him again. Not that it mattered to me how long we took, it was he who was expecting a phone call.
It was a good thing that I’ve been hanging around, as it gave me space to remember that there was a casserole in the oven and I’ve taken it out. No smells emanate from the Aga so there is nothing to remind you when a dish is ready – or overcooked – or burned. Not that it ever burns in the bottom oven, it just sits there getting darker. I was making spag bol for supper – not that I’d dream of calling it spag bol myself of course, it’s just to save time typing. I’m not big on abbreviations (and have never shortened university to its first three letters in my life. You knee. Hmph.) and have been known to get quite cross. Apart from sensible ones, obv, darls, y’know what I mean.
It was not until this morning when I was roaming around the kitchen making coffee that it occurred to me that I had not had a drink at all yesterday. Water, tea, of course. Nothing alcoholic. The good news was twofold – I didn’t miss it and I didn’t feel any different this morning. If I’d felt all bright and clear-headed, it would have been a bit worrying. As it was … no, the usual grouchy Z.