Day 181 - Friday?

Just a short one. I enjoyed the rather good-looking man who was sitting opposite me on the train. He was very cool. I quite liked that about him. I don’t ever feel like a man like that would be suitable for me, but I liked his inaccessible slickness.

I enjoyed the car drive to Runswick Bay (ish) with Lilley and a Ruth (there are two on the hen do, an S and  a W. I think it was the W. Very nice, anyway). We drove and drove and forgot, until we were almost there, to tease Lilley that we were going paintballing, or extreme camping, or clubbing with L-plates on and hired male strippers. We half-heartedly did so in the last 5 mintues, and then we got to the cottage. The cottage is wonderful, and thank goodness it is. We booked it in January, trusting the pictures on the internet and paying up front. I had no idea whether it would turn out to be good or not. You can’t smell pictures on the internet. Sometimes you get to a place that looks pretty and it smells of feet or fish or damp. But not – it’s prettier, warmer, lovelier and all sorts of things more than expected.

I was allowed to disappear and cook while festivities started, which was great for me. They’d bought 60 eggs! I’m amazed. I used 30 and we ate them all, between us. I’m grateful that Lilley seems happy, and that her friends seem to get on and feel good.

Esther Lilley is sitting in lotus at the kitchen table, having her hair done. It’s 12.25, so officially, it’s tomorrow. She’s having her hair blow-dried by her friend, who is a hairdresser and who will be doing her hair at the wedding. She is devoted. I suspect she’ll be asleep before it’s finished. If I’m lucky, Fran will fall asleep too, and they’ll both stand motionless, dribbling into their chins, caked in the smell of hair mousse.

It’s amazingly chilled for this time of night. I’m only a little bit crusty. I really need to be asleep, but I’m waiting for the comedy of Lill having a big golden bag inflated around her bonce, to make it curlier. That reminds me that Our Face’s first nickname was Curly Bonce (which she hated), followed by just Bonce, which I don’t think she liked much more. I liked it, though. Not long after, I started calling her all sorts of terrible things, but with her permission, and she seemed to like it more. Can’t remember when Our Face came into being, with Our Jowdeh as its partner, but it did, and they’re the ones that have stuck.

 

Thank you for the brilliant ‘mixed definitions’ game and how poetically well it worked. Some examples:

Cocktail sausage: an instrument to open a locking device

Candles – Lilley and how we are around her

Confusion – diamonds and husbands

Excited – the luckiest person in the world

Delight – a scaly creature that swims

Inspired – a fleeting emotion

I love that game. I’m very grateful that other people seemed to love it too.