How are you?
Bank Holiday Weekend here (again). Yesterday I had to pick up ten broken eggs from the floor and clean the chicken house and unblock the lavatory and correct 17 grammar exercises all before midday, then gorged on Daim pieces (relic of Ikea trip of hell) until I lost all sensation in my mouth. What do they put in Daims? Is it legal? On Sunday our next door neighbour (the one with the saxophone and the jazz records) had a violent psychotic break and stood in the back garden screaming that he was going to kill us all and bury us in the garden. I don't remember Saturday, but it's probably for the best. Oh, no, hang on I do remember: we went on our Ikea trip of hell where L insisted on a hideous, strictly '80s monochrome theme for his bedroom. F stayed at home watching Rubik's Cube videos. It's very retro round here.
Day of administrative grimness and insufficient funds.
Printer - so long a shining beacon of reliability - has failed, just when I have fistfuls of invoices to print.
Remains of ten eggs in bin in heatwave = terrible.
Summoned to headmaster's office following An Incident. Not good.
Impending child exams are making for wearying evenings of accords des participes passés des verbes pronominaux, Belgian rivers and Dutch irregular verbs.
Too fat for much of somewhere wardrobe. I blame that BASTARD juice detox. I have been eating solidly since it finished. I also blame anxiety, which has led me into the perfidious arms of cheap wine.
No one threatened to kill us today.
Discovered I have another ten days to pay a load of bills I thought were already overdue.
Read the most wonderful book (this) which was both a delight and an inspiration. MY GOD THIS MAN WRITES BEAUTIFULLY.
Not very busy, which will rapidly become a down, but for today was quite pleasant. I have reduced my office from darkest zone of shame to mild disgrace.
Interesting and very un-Belgian stormy, hot weather. Dog is appalled, but I rather like it.
Jolly chat with Papa Waffle last night. Emboldened by his expansive good humour, I voiced my grievances about him getting himself a life sized bronze horse when he was never prepared to buy me a real one and since he was apparently slightly tipsy he said "ah, well you never know hon", which I have of course interpreted as meaning that he WILL buy me a horse for my fortieth birthday. I will nourish this fantasy for a few months, I think. Maybe speculating on the type and colour of horse. This will make up for the year he got me the Times Encyclopaedia of World History when I was 14 (my father will never buy me a horse) (and if he did, what the fuck would I do with it?) (I can still dream though).
Delicious lunch (for a review) on Saturday (see? Something good did happen on Saturday) including spookily moreish buckwheat ice cream, which sounds horrible but was a bit like highly superior cereal milk à la Momofuku, with tiny chocolate truffles hidden underneath it. Here. 2 courses for €15, highly recommended, Belgians.
It's now time to watch three hours of overwrought French patisserie competition on the telly.
Meanwhile, recommended for me:
Yeah, thanks, 4OD.
10% bored of Minecraft/Rubik's Cube/Clash of Clans
10% Entering interesting - if probably short-lived - phase of relatively serene fatalism.
10% Old El Paso scented.