Very stormy in the night again, Carruthers. Apparently. Though I have to admit I slept right through it. However, Lord H was woken up by odd knockings from the downstairs flat and, in the morning, we discovered that the neighbour’s outside continental blind had been swept up by the winds and was nestling nicely in our gutter. We’ve managed to unattach it from the gutter using only a skewer and some sticky-back plastic and reattach it to where it should be, but I think it might need further medical attention at some stage. Don’t we all? Mind you, I do feel that Lord H should have woken me up when it was actually happening, and we could have then gone and investigated in the middle of the night, armed only with our special Torchwood torches and some rather unusual fluffy slippers. After all, it could have been aliens, you know … Hmm, now there’s an image you don’t want to mess with ...

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I walk into the Sit-Up production offices at 3pm and immediately the sense of dread kicks in. The faces on the crew tonight – directors, producers, presenters, floor managers, sound and camera operators – are all familiar but none are welcoming. After three years as a freelance camera operator here, I have failed to make any kind of significant connection with any of them. The meeting is already underway, and I sit apart from the others, too apathetic to show any interest in the information being imparted, nodding at a few of the people who look my way. The gesture is not returned.

The head cameraman, for reasons I cannot fathom, has a soft spot for me, and so the phone calls continue and I drive the two miles into Acton and do my mini tours of duty.

Peter Simon is holding forth at the meeting, gently complaining about the colour of the jewellery displays...

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I think I need to circulate with more writers. We feed off one another so well and the mutual support is always there. This is one of the reasons that I love belonging to the WriteWords community - and possibly why I always get a reply from any other writers I contact from time to time.


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Managed to finish the first draft of the Student Affairs Committee minutes yesterday, hurrah! And have spent a large part of the morning typing up travel forms for the Health Centre website. Simple typing stuff – honestly, I really love it. Wish there was more stuff I didn’t have to think about during my working day. That would be bliss. I also really loved the question on the form which said: Are you pregnant or planning pregnancy or breast feeding? (NB Women only). Goodness me, but I hadn’t realised medical expertise had moved on quite so quickly …

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Goodness me, what a wet and windy day it is. All rather dramatic really – how I love a bit of drama! Talking of which, was it just me or did the burning house at the end of last night’s rather wonderful “Lewis” episode explode rather too much and too often for a normal house fire? What on earth were they keeping in there?? Gas canisters? A makeshift bomb? The mind boggles, Carruthers … Mind you, it was still a good episode – all that Hathaway emoting – marvellous!...

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I was awakened around 5.30am by what I thought were aeroplanes, but the noise kept going at the same level.

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A very short blog today - sorry, but I'm battling with time and really have to watch "Lark Rise to Candleford" in 10 minutes or my brain will explode.

Anyway, Lord H and I popped into church today, which was okay actually - even though the vicar's hands were so cold that we feared he might be dead. Or an alien. One of the two. Mind you, if he is either of these, it'll certainly save the church money in salaries ...

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In "Sailing ships and heavy gold" I was thinking about why we bother to research facts that no one will notice, and in "Carracks, kerseymere and other last straws" I was thinking about how you deploy and write those facts so that they're at once new and interesting, and not so baffling that the reader trips up or, worse still, gives up. But in many ways the facts of shoes and ships and sealing way - and even cabbages and kings - are the easy bit. What's much harder is pinning down how people think, and how that makes them act.

Fiction of the time helps if you're setting a novel when contemporary narratives portrayed life naturalistically. But of course it's not that simple, because so much of what we know must have been going on wasn't written about.

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Had a lovely time with Jane W last night in London and Lord H enjoyed his art session too. We even managed to meet up at Waterloo before catching the train home. Bloody hell but it's good when things work out without too much effort or angst. Bloody amazing actually.

This morning, I still feel rather low, so have taken one De-stress pill - it seems to be helping, thank the Lord! I've also psyched myself up for the weekly Godalming shopping experience and got through it by talking to as few people as possible. Hurrah! Managed to get most things on my ever-growing list, but gave myself a break by not bothering with Easter stuff just yet. That can be next week's worry. Hell, it's good to have a hobby and hey worrying is cheap ...

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Dear Kitty

What is the deal with my colleagues? I've just been dumped by the love of my life but let's not even go into that right now. Anyway, yesterday as usual I dragged myself into work looking like Methuselah and feeling a soupcon martyrlike when I bumped into Sandra from accounts who has been divorced twice and so knows my pain.

How's it going? She asked. Fine, I said, getting ready to continue in just a little more detail about the sleepless nights and the endless crying and the urge to keep driving past his house and did I mention the stomach cramp….when she said fantastic! and sashayed off to the coffee machine.

Is that all I get? I mean, really? Because it’s been less than three weeks and I’m only just back on solid food. Surely I don't have to pretend I'm okay already?

Robbed, Berkshire.




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