Blogging Backwards

In just got off the phone with B. We talked for hours, literary. Skype is truly the most wonderful thing. (Although, it just dawned on me that I may have gone over the MB limit on my crappy internet dongle, and I may have paid more for the overcharge on the internet than I would have if I just rang her. I need to sort that out.) Anyway, great to talk to B. She and her man are doing well, and she may be back in England in the spring for a little holiday, so if that’s the case I’ll be taking some annual leave to visit her.

But it was just good to chat. You know those old friends, the ones you know so well that you can step on each other’s sentences and it doesn’t matter. The ones where you can pick up a conversation six months later and it’s like you talked to them yesterday. You know those old friends who will indulge your discussions of ‘The Vampire Myth: Anne Rice vs Stephenie Meyer’ and why Austen is only fun if you understand the satire behind it. Yeah, B is one of those friends.

I left Pete in the lounge watching telly, so I could sit on the bedtress talking to B. Pete’s has fallen asleep and is snoring loudly, and I think I’ll leave him there while I take some time to get caught up on the blog.

Going backwards in time (as opposed to picking up on the blog where we left off), today was so wonderfully beautiful in Dundee. Lady Bohemia was in the garden for most of the day, while Philip put some new little flowers into a bed.

I’ve got another Conspiracy event tomorrow night (this time a creative writing class), and I had to spend much of the day dealing with that. Against Conspiracy’s wishes, we’ve announced the event on our Facebook and Twitter pages, which sent him up the wall. It also caused a problem with the creative writing group, who said that they weren’t open to new members, and that they didn’t want us to publicise the event. I tried to tell them that it was unlikely anyone would turn up, putting it on FB and Twitter was a way for us to get Conspiracy’s book in the minds of the public.

The woman running the creative writing group then said, ‘Well, if no one cares enough to come see this author, why do we want him at our creative writing group?’ Honestly, I thought that was a fair question. But I had to be diplomatic, and tell them that he was a marvellous writer and had a world of insight into the process of writing a novel, blah, blah, blah.

Then I called Conspiracy to tell him that tomorrow was not a reading, but that the group instead would ask him a bunch of questions about writing. Then he was to give them a writing task/prompt, and after spending ten minutes writing to that prompt, he would go around and give everyone feedback. He was none too pleased about this. Tomorrow is going to be fun.

Anyway, I had to Conspiracy-wrangle today, plus all the other stuff I have to do. I’m falling behind in my slush pile reading, I’m supposed to have helped Loraine put together a marketing plan for another author (which I haven’t completed), and I’m supposed to keep track of any ‘new writer’ research I’m doing. And (this is actually really great big news, but I’m just too busy right now to see it as such) Loraine gave me a new project. There’s a non-fiction author she represents, and he’s submitted a proposal for a new book. She wants me to have a look at it and give her some notes. She said that since I primarily focused on non-fiction at MNM, this should be a breeze. Oh yeah, and she’d like my notes by tomorrow.

Such a busy day, but it was so lovely outside that I only wanted to sit in the garden and watch Lady Bohemia paint. She asked me to join her several times, but I had to decline. I just didn’t have the time. She seemed a bit dejected, so at the end of the day I went outside with a cuppa for both of us and watched her paint clouds. Neither one of us really said anything, but I think we were both happy the other was there.

Continuing back in time, yesterday/Sunday was quite interesting. When I left my bloggy-woggy followers I was sitting in a café drowning my sorrows in scones and coffee. Since I couldn’t spend all day in the café without going on my hundredth scone, I left and went for a walk along the river. I walked quite far down past the docks and then back up to my house. I walked fairly slow, so by the time I got home it was late afternoon.

I came into the flat expecting to find PoshPhD smoking, CoolTrous watching the telly with Pete, or possibly no one at home at all. But I was surprised to come home to find a house that was immaculate. The kitchen and bathroom had been scrubbed to a sparkle, the lounge and bedroom hovered, and Pete had fascinated a broom handle to the wall of my bedroom so I could have a makeshift wardrobe. Plus there were lovely lavender candles lit which made the house smell dreamy.

Pete had borrowed cleaning supplies (and candles) from PoshPhD in an attempt to show me that he could be an effective house husband. He explained that he would do every single dish, every toilet scrub, every ounce of laundry.

We finally sat down and talked…well, we talked before my I was talking through clinched teeth. This time, he explained that he wasn’t able to check his online banking in Turkey. He said that some unexpected debits came out of his account, so he didn’t realise how short of cash he was when he came to the UK.

I asked him why he didn’t tell me this as soon as he found out he was short, and he said he thought he could sort things out. He didn’t want to bother me about it all.

He is an inconsiderate jerk. But that’s just it. He’s inconsiderate not mean. He doesn’t have an ounce of malice in him; he just (sometimes) doesn’t think. I had been so mad at him for acting in such a cavalier manner, but I guess in his mind he’d take care of it. He assumed (and still does assume) he’d get a job.

In fact, he explained that ‘I don’t know why a restaurant or something won’t hire me illegally. Then they don’t have to put in for my taxes. CoolTrous said that here in theUK, the amount the employer puts in for taxes is a lot. So they may hire me because I’m cheaper.’

I’m not convinced, but he’s trying. Oh, and he went and talked to that lady, the one CoolTrous put him in contact with. He’s going to clean her house once a week, and walk her dog every day while she’s at work. He won’t be getting paid loads from this, but it should be enough to keep him in beer and help stock the fridge on occasion.

I guess things are okay for now. I should go wake Pete up and tell him to come to bed.

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