One more six and we're in devil territory. My dog's birthday was June 6th, 2006, but he wasn't a devil child, he was a six-and-a-half stone dunce. And he wasn't really mine. None of this is relevant.I really, really enjoyed visiting Lawrence. That's a massive thing. I'm a terrible guest. I find it so hard. And honestly, we're cousins but we don't know each other well. He was just fabulous, laid back, funny and friendly. I had a lovely time.
It really has been a day suffused with loveliness, in gentle ways. I got an extension for my work, which was good - took away the guilt of delivering it with no time for changes - but I delivered it today anyway, or it would have dragged on and on. This way, we can discuss the changes. I think it's okay. I hope it is. It's hard to tell. If anything, it needs slicing a bit.
Lovely coffee/breakfast with Lawrence, then goodbye and into the rain. Edinburgh does rain so well. And, after some more work and some internet, a very lovely meeting with the tenant who's leaving. SO organised. Very warm and friendly. I have only really seen her at the very beginning of the tenancy and the end. I remember liking her very much the first time. She thanked me for being a good landlady and I bristled up all pridey. It's good to hear. It's not the role I really wanted, but it's good if it was working well for her.
And underlying everything in a lovely way - respite from the itch! I woke up and the itch was much reduce. Not the rash, so much. That's still there, and very red, and one leg is swollen hard (so you WOULD think it was an allergy, but it's not responding like one). Not sure why the itch was gone, but it stayed away, apart
from minor nags, until about 1pm. 1.30, on the train, bugger me, it was bad. Bad bad bad bad bad. Made up for it, almost. But oh, it was nice, this morning, to have a break.
It's been on and off, between. It's on now, but I did just have a shower, and I don't think it's happy with that. The doctor said to avoid hot showers, but despite the pond business, I can't bear to have a cold shower. I just won't do it. It's awful. I tried tonight. No way. Now, if I were to take that as evidence that I didn't like cold water, evidence tells me I'd be wrong. So if you're tempted to pond it but you don't like cold showers, nothing to fear... you can do it. Come!
I said goodbye to my flat. I enjoyed being there very much. I'm grateful for it.
My train ride was smooth. I worked. The lady in front of me was verbally aggressive into the phone to a range of different men, whose name she used repeatedly each time. In my head, she became some kind of drug baron or mafia queen. Not sure why she was in the buffet carriage, then. And she'd brought her own snacks.
Smooth home too, though I did drop my case down the stairs of the bus on a lurch. Could have brained someone.I'm glad it didn't. And then Ruth! Smiling, lovely Ruth. We had a wonderful supper, which she'd cooked, and chatted (I'm afraid I did go on about my rash - bon appetit!). It was so good to see her. When I finally do move out and find somewhere more permanent (on a temporary basis), I'll miss her terribly. Still, let's not think of that. We're now aren't we, not later.
I seem to have been selected to do some kind of Italian-speaking impro. I'm very excited. It means a trip over there, a match, some lovely players. I don't speak Italian, but maybe that's by the by. I have a fighting chance. With fluent French and okay Spanish, and a reasonable level of Italian when reading, I reckon with a bit of work, some practice and some balls, I could be in a pretty good place by then end of March. Should I tell them now that I don't speak it? Ah bum, I suppose I should. I'm honoured to be asked though, even if it is through misplaced language skills.
Tomorrow: laundry, steroids, photos, coaching, show. Goodness, it'll be a full one. Oh, and a swim. Yes. A big, fat, freezing swim. Will it tinkle? Will I crumble? It all remains to be seen.
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