I’ll tell you about the sale tomorrow. I’m so tired now. We had an hour’s extra viewing and it was pretty busy throughout, though I did have a break while Zerlina slept on me – as always, she was asleep with a few minutes of my soothing presence.
I was disappointed not to buy Stephen’s cartoon (see last Sunday’s post – I’m sorry, I really can’t link at present as my brain doesn’t work), but the bidding was spirited (as we say in the auctioneering business) and I kept finding myself the underbidder; nevertheless I pushed it up past the point at which I was rather banking on being taken out. Not that I think it isn’t worth the £160.02 paid for it and next year I will try harder.
Lowestoft has, as I told you after the last sale (well, I probably did and lets face it, neither you nor I can be arsed to go back and look), a peculiar attitude to parking. The long-stay park closes at 9 pm and the longer-opening one is only available for 3 hours at a time, so if one needs to be there all afternoon and evening one has to repark. I did go in the long-stay one this time, as it was likely I’d be finished in time. I trotted over the road at 8.45 to find the gate locked. I went back and asked the parking man chappie, who was walking away, if the ‘out’ gate was open. It was. I said, oh good, because my daughter’s car is in there too. He asked if I knew whose was the third car, but I didn’t. I said I was sorry to keep him waiting, because if the car park were empty, he could simply lock up and go home, but he said he’s on duty until midnight anyway. I said that when I went back, I’d ask everyone if their car was the third one (ooh, The Third Car, does zither music come to mind?) and he thanked me, isn’t that sweet? So, Lowestoft is a bit rubbish but the people who live there are not, they are lovely.
I came home, drank two large mugs of Lapsang tea and drank two drams of whisky. Now I’m taking the daily papers to bed. Oh, by the way, the sale was mentioned in the Daily Express today, complete with a picture of the Tulip Painter jug.
And thank you for your kind comments about the photos. You’ll have seen (whether or not you noticed) that there have been a few photos of me, complete with face, recently, when previously any Z pics were either from a great distance or obscured views. It’s all part of my new positive self-image. After years of feeling apologetic about my appearance, now I take myself as I am and am cheerful about it.
And when your appearance is that of a twenty-year old, you have every reason to put it on public display.
Oh Dave, you are lovely – not that mine is of course but I have no objection to a charming compliment.
Having also met you in person I can back up Dave’s comment, an English rose.
Now I’m blushing. Thank you, darling Martin.
Apologetic? Are you serious? It makes no sense. Dave and Martin are right. And a pretty 20-year-old at that.
Ooh, go on with you!
Goodness knows why – as you know, kiddo, you were always called the “pretty one” when we were children. Lots of love from your “ugly sister”!
Still rankles, does it darling? I never said a word about it, you know. It was only the blonde hair anyway.
Doesn’t rankle at all – always very proud of little Alice in Wonderland as you know – brains as well as beauty!