"Ha ha," husband says, bringing this week's edition of local newspaper into bedroom this morning with tea, "look who's in this week's Courant."
The meeting I had last week, where I rambled on about my life as a would be writer on Job Seekers Allowance, (and had photo's taken in windswept park across the road afterwards) has been miraculously turned in to a well crafted newspaper article, thanks to journalist Helen.
Photo however, as I feared is not good (not fault of photographer, faulty subject).
"Oh. My. God. I look like I've been inflated by bicycle pump." I say getting grumpier than I usually am at eight in morning.
Husband makes it ten times worse by saying helpful things like "camera does not lie" and "I don't know why you're complaining, it's a good likeness," and "any way, stop being so vain it's not how you look that people are interested in, it's supposed to be about all that stuff you keep on typing."
Grrr! Make mental note to do extra time at at gym.
Hah, no sign of Bee at gym this morning. Trying to get her out of her house when she's painting is as hard as trying to separate a snail from its shell, it could be very traumatic, not to mention messy for all concerned. Fortunately there's no sign of mad Bab's either so I am actually able to walk to car unaided when I leave gym an hour later.
Can't wait until tonight. One daughter is coming home for weekend and I will get scoop on visit of their father and wife number five from Australia. (I know It's naughty hee, hee). Also, we're going to "Crime and Cake" event in local village hall where the wonderful author Sophie Hannah will be talking about her new book, "Lasting Damage."
"Gosh she's been published in 20 countries," I tell husband, "Five of her novels to date have become international best sellers and 'Point of Rescue' is being made into series for ITV."
"More important," says Husband, "there's tea and cake."
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