It's been a bad week.
I missed out on going to see the film Australia with Mrs Robinson because I was too tired after the London Boat Show. My puppy is still peeing every time anyone makes a fuss of it. I broke wind to impress Mr Grigg but almost followed through. I thought I had downloaded The Cinematic Orchestra on to my iPod but got someone called Chubby Chunks instead.
It is wet, muddy and miserable.
But more seriously, I am broke. I am waiting for the Death Star to pay me for work I did in November but somehow I have been put on the payroll so won't see it for another fortnight. And the other company for whom I also do some work has suddenly become slower than usual in paying. For the self-employed like me, money is everything. Especially when you have the taxman ready to pounce at the end of the month. Debtors prison, here I come.
I have also managed to wipe out an entire intranet, which is used by thousands of people including those who work with vulnerable clients. Just by the click of a button. As a freelance hired hand, my hand was too free. It slipped and whoosh, the front page and access to all sorts of applications disappeared. I owned up, of course. But there was nothing I could do. No button to say: 'You are just about to lose loads of other people's information and make a complete tit of yourself. Are you sure?' Normal service was restored fairly soon after the mishap, but not before it had been declared a major incident by the local authority.
It also appears I have upset someone with a blog post. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend. There is nothing malicious in what I write. My references are all tongue-in-cheek and done with affection. If you think I've written about you, then I wouldn't have written about you if I didn't like you.
Haven't I anything better to do with my time? Well yes, I have two jobs, one of which involves weekend work, I am studying for an honours degree, I am secretary to two community groups, I walk two dogs twice a day, run a home which is currently undergoing improvement, support Number One Son while he becomes Piers Brosnan in Dantes Peak, look after Number One grandchild every now and then and deal with Mr Grigg's moods.
I have just written a radio play, I've got to write a university assignment by next Friday, I have to give a talk to a ladies' club on Wednesday, I have to go to a meeting on Tuesday night and a meeting on Monday night. Between now and then, I have to edit two radio pieces, interview someone and write a 1000-word article, go to a community event and take photos and recordings and polish it ready for Monday and write another 1,000 article tomorrow about a subject I will pluck out of the air. This is in addition to my normal workload on Friday and Monday. I don't get any money for much of this and even when I do they're late with the dosh.
So I'm feeling sorry for myself.
And then I thought, what about the good things that have happened to me this week?
I walked 4,000 steps today as part of a fitness drive, I cried at the end of Dead Poets Society last night (partly because I managed to record it without losing the last few minutes), Mr St John and Lady Friend are still speaking to me, I had the most wonderful massage from a white witch in the next town, the puppy is starting to get the message about not pulling on his lead, the sun shone yesterday, I found a parking space today close to where I am working, I have avoided spending money on things I don't need, I survived the Boat Show, I met an old girlfriend entirely by chance as we walked towards each other across a railway footbridge and I am still very much in love with Mr Grigg.
And, oh yes, next week a beacon of hope is being installed in the White House.
So things can't be all bad.
That's about it,
Love Maddie x
I woke up this morning, drooling on my pillow like Patsy from Ab Fab . My hair was sticking up on one side and a trail of clothes led to ...
It's Shrove Tuesday, the day before Lent. General Custer, he of the face carved out of Mount Rushmore and last seen loitering in the pub...
We sat in our seats, the lights went down and there was not a whirr to be heard. At the opening night of our very own Lush Places cinema i...
And now the decorations are down, the Christmas tree over the pub door that some woman thought looked like a willy has been dismantled and...
Once upon a time, a long time ago, I was a child in a meadow with a woodland circle of beech trees around me. And there was clover growing i...