I’ve been fiddling with my blog for days – still parked on the sofa in front of those frothing horses until the bitter bloody end of the dressage, watching young, toothy Charlotte Something win gold for GBR to a soundtrack of Live and Let Die, Land of Hope and Glory and Jerusalem (never let it be said that parochialism doesn’t win points on the board, even in a country that’s not Australia). One thing you can deduce from watching a competition like this is that people who do dressage probably can’t dance, and if they do, they’d do it with the white man’s overbite (thank you Billy Crystal) to ELO. Or maybe it would be the white man’s overbit. Oh never mind.
Anyway – I’m having trouble with my widgets. (Fiddling with my blog? Trouble with my widgets? I’ve turned into Benny Hill.) I’ve lost a sizeable chunk of my life this week faffing around on the Dashboard . The only writing I’ve managed is a censoring of my own work.
Yes, in order to stay on message with Plan B, I have tempered my language un petit peu to ensure I don’t alienate any multinational corporations when I approach them with a Monetise This sponsorship package. (Ha! And you thought I’d learned nothing from my years dangling on the lower rungs of the publishing ladder, didn’t you.)
It also means I don’t have to tick the ‘R’ box in my Dashboard settings. Someone might take this as a porn site. Hmm… Fifty Shades of Oy Vey. Smack me with the salt beef, Shlomo.
This week has not been one of particular joy. Suffice to say, it has comprised a woman who should go to bed at a decent hour or learn how to use her laptop properly, her crumbling mother and the ignominies of illness. Well, at least we can still laugh about it. Actually, we do laugh quite a lot – but not about it so much.
So, moving right along to the good bits. The first, a literary dinner with a briefly-lost-but-now-happily-refound friend at Christine Manfield’s restaurant, Universal, where a favourite author of mine, Charlotte Wood, did a bit of reading, and Christine and Alex Herbert did a bit of cooking. All extremely well. Although I was happy to pass on the chocolate hedgehog – even if it was accompanied by the wonderful story that Charlotte read from her book, Love and Hunger, which wove said choc slice into its denoument (not literally wove, obviously; literarily).
Charlotte brings out the worst in me. Writer envy, interesting-holiday envy, colourful-country-upbringing envy and blog envy. Her widgets seem in perfect order.
The other good bit this week? Our dog has spectacularly healthy ear canals, according to Simon the vet. This is quite unusual in a Labrador. Who knew? But it may be enough to qualify me as a doggy day-care practitioner, should Plan B not come to fruition.