The 24th of July.
Nothing to say about today. I am exhausted by poor quality sleep but that can’t be helped until I get back in my own bed. I blogged, saw cousin Tilly in the background on This Morning (they had segments from Heathrow and she’s going to Canada), and went out to get coffee and a brownie from Espressini Dulce this afternoon. The guy who works there is cute. Sigh.
I’ve spent the rest of the day reading Death in Florence, fully identifying with the old man who finds himself totally irrelevant to anyone he finds attractive, embarrassed that he even thinks of himself with them, because in truth be is invisible. But now even be has managed to get a beautiful, young girlfriend, as unlikely as that is. I am firmly convinced that no one sees me as a prospective partner; I am invisible. A girl in a chair, alone.
The 25th of July.
Driving day. Awake at half past seven, we left maybe at nine? I’ll miss Falmouth, everyone there is so lovely. In the car I read the paper and listened to lots of music. Got lunch at M&S in the services and stopped again at Gloucester where I had some shortbread and some shortbread and some coffee that tasted like garbage. I bought some apple, spinach, lemon and kale juice to get rid of the taste, and they had the Konditor & Cook book in the shop so I got that because I want Curly Wurly cake all the time.
When we got home, I had to give the hamster a shake because he’d left all his food out and I was concerned he might have died.