Katie and her mental meanderings

My mother has gone home after another row "Why don’t you hoover the sofa? You are so lazy, you never do any cleaning" "Well, I think it might make it dirtier – it’s not very good" "Well of course it’s not going to be any good if you use the wrong setting" "I do know how to use my hoover, you know" "Don’t talk to me like that! You always talk to me in such a horrible way!"

A slightly more relaxing guest – my American friend Haein – has arrived, and is having a nap after an overnight flight. I mustn’t let her sleep for too long.

I may, but probably don’t, have a temporary lodger arriving today as well. I would quite like to get a lodger, temporary or otherwise, to ease the cash flow situation and enable me to buy more books and CDs to fill up my flat with, and go on glamorous foreign holidays, or failing that, to Greenbelt followed by Cornwall.

I have just played in a very long concert of a Handel oratorio which consists of mostly music that he used elsewhere. It’s the story of Deborah from the book of Judges, and I hadn’t realised how bloodthirsty it is. At one point Jael, wife of someone or other – sung by our conductor’s motherly-looking wife – describes how she murders Salisa (I think that’s his name) by hammering a nail through his head. Family viewing? Well my mum came to hear it, if that counts.

Just finished reading (what, you mean you only read one book at a time?) <i>Blood Sugar</i> by Suzannah Dunn.

It’s a novel about growing up, about five young women, with one woman who has four siblings as the central character. One of the women has anorexia and one of the younger siblings has diabetes but none of the others seem particularly obsessed by food so it’s an odd title. But a good book. No-one is glamorous or unreal.

But feeling a bit more positive today. Went for a run this morning, read some papers which seemed to have the desired effect of making my thoughts more focussed, and wrote a bit more on my grant application. At least now I repeat myself less and I think I sell myself more.

Made a lovely carrot cake – well if they will send me lots of carrots with my veg box what do you expect? – and even managed to do some Decluttering of the living room yesterday in preparation for onslaught of Mother tonight. The trouble is that she thinks my house is so messy in comparison with hers that she can put anything anywhere and it won’t make a difference. My stuff is carefully arranged and I know where everything is, and I don’t put plastic bags all over the livingroom at any time!

Mothers!

I haven’t got any. I’ve got so many things to do that have no particular deadline (writing and editing papers, doing research) or only very vague deadlines (submitting a grant application roughly 3 months before I want the money), but which have to be done very well… and some things that are ultimately not that useful (admin for exams) but which have someone breathing down my neck to do them. Not very helpful.

Currently reading: Ode for a Banker by Lindsey Davis. I’m very fond of her books – they are all set in ancient Rome and have an "informer" (private investigator) as a hero.

Waiting to read: The Full Cupboard of Life, by Alexander McCall Smith. If you haven’t read any of this series – the no 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency – go out and get one now. The latest one was supposed to be out on June 12th but the bookshop haven’t rung me yet. Boo.

Or, alternatively, I may fulfill all your desires. Or at least those of the two people who asked me to be dull…

I’ve been getting quite a bit of work done today – or at least it feels that way, since my office chair in the study at home is very HARD. And the ice-cream van keeps coming past to tempt me. But I would only be seriously tempted if me buying something meant it would stop playing Oranges and Lemons in a really, really irritating manner.

I managed not to go out of the house at all till 4pm – not unusual on my days working from home – when I went down to the local market street to buy some fruit and veg and something for dinner. I feel all old-fashioned and virtuous when I do that – keeping local shops alive and all that.

Contemplating my evening run. Shall I go round the park, or along the canal? If I go round the park, will it be cool enough at 6.30 or will I have to wait for later? If I go along the canal, is it completely mad to run to St Pancras where The Bloke™ is arriving at 9pm? Or would I get mugged/lose my keys/be so sweaty he’d jump back on the train and never speak to me again??

I’ve been avoiding updating my wiblog. This is not through laziness, you understand, but from a desire not to steal the limelight from the dullest blogger in the world.