Not much has happened today really. I have stepped neatly off the world for a day and spoken to no-one and not gone out of the flat at all. Bliss. Except I did nip quietly down to the shared hallway to pick up the post. It's all finances - groan. Honestly, I think the postman has seriously gone off us now and is obviously taking our exciting post to more deserving customers. Even the magazine was Accountancy Monthly - Lord H's, I hasten to add.
Apart from that, I have done another 1000 words to Hallsfoot's Battle, thus bringing me up to 18,000 of the little beggars. 2000 to go before my self-imposed holiday deadline then! But really, do I need a deadline? Or is it just something I take on in order to give me an imagined sense of control in a totally uncontrollable world? Hell, no, don't answer that ... As my Anglo-Saxon tutor once told me a long time ago: Anne, you are your own worst enemy, you know. Ye gods, but the old bugger might have been right.
I have also - much to my surprise as it so rarely happens - looked at my Hallsfoot theme/plot outline again, and even added in a few more chapter titles and writing notes into the text for when I go back to it. Lordy, but I might even have a plan, of sorts. So not me, dahlings - have I been switched with some kind of alien lifeform? Hmm, it's a puzzle, and probably quite likely ... Hell, somebody pass me the snuff box - I obviously need the drugs.
Talking of puzzles, I have been totally and utterly thrilled this morning by the fact that I completed the Radio Times Word Enigma Puzzle in record time and (shock!) without cheating. They said I should be able to do it in 26 minutes but (pause for smug smile and gloating) I did it in 10. Hurrah! I was helped hugely by the fact that (a) I instantly saw where the word "oxymoron" was, and (b) I recognised "alpaca", purely due to the alpaca stud farm next door toGlyndebourne. Ha! Which just goes to show how truly useful the opera can be in the modern age.
In the middle of all this excitement, I managed to fit in an hour's lunchtime nap and some existential weeping. As you do - really, m'dears, no day is complete without it. I am nothing if not overly dramatic and droopy when faced with potential diseases. Believe me, courage is so not my middle name. Mind you, even I realised I might have gone too far when I found myself wondering which priest might be persuaded to say a few words at my funeral (which will be stylish, elegant and small, if you're asking). At that point, I got up and had some lunch - much the best thing to do - and besides I could almost hear Lord H's tutting and that's never a pretty sight. Anyway, I'd already decided I didn't much like any of the priests I knew at all, so I may as well keep living. Which, bloody hell, is as good a reason as any not to panic!
Tonight, I might do a tad more scribbling, if I feel in the mood. Or possibly another sudoku or two, which are much like haikus but with numbers. Strangely Lord H has taken to demonstrating his undoubted genius by filling in the difficult sudokus in my book - but leaving gaps in different patterns or shapes of letters and then putting the book on my side of the sofa so I can come along and complete them later. God, but he's good. Or perhaps he's trying to communicate with me? Who can tell? I shall have to mark down the patterns and letters he leaves and see if I can crack the code. Ah, indeed marriage is the last great puzzle. Ye gods, but truly I feel a Bonekickers moment coming on. Where's that mystery sword when I need it?
Today's nice things:
1. Writing Hallsfoot
3. Marital communication.
Causes Anne Brooke Supports