I am depressed at the moment. I have an ear infection and am deaf, but don't want to take antibiotics so I'm taking echinacea and selenium to boost my immune system and hoping the earache will stop. It's been going on for weeks, ever since I went down with that virus in March. I haven't been able to do any writing, property prices have whizzed up and I still haven't found anywhere to buy, and there are some other rather heavy, emotionally painful things going on. So please forgive the lack of posts.
On the upside, I might have a website soon. I have a guy working on it. But then I shall have to start a new blog in my real name! Though I suppose I could keep this one for things that really matter, that I don't want to discuss with my nearest and dearest (or worsest!). Hmm...
Oh, one funny thing has happened lately. At the age of sixty-something, I was chatted up by a Salvador Dali look-alike at an art exhibition in the library! He had a foreign accent - German or Austrian, maybe - and said he was a sculptor. Unfortunately, I had to dash off to meet a friend for a coffee, so I never found out his name.
But, for a moment, the encounter made me feel young and full of hope again. It took me back to days when, in my twenties and thirties, I would roam the National Gallery in the hope of having an encounter with an artistic male who would make me his muse. It never happened. Though I did meet a photographer once who took some artistic nude pictures of me with a tabby kitten curled up on my lap. I wonder what happened to them? Would they suddenly surface if I became a bestselling author? I would love to see them - though the man who took them is probably pushing up daisies by now - and so, sadly, is that sweet little kitten.
I wish I hadn't said that! Boo-hoo, mew.
4 days ago