I woke with that feeling of impending gloom that comes with the belief that it is Monday morning. And then I remembered we hadn't done Sunday yet, and there was a huge hunk of beef in the fridge waiting for me to come roast. And Uncle and Nephew on their way down from London to visit us. So I went and got tea and snuggled up with my Pete McCarthy book for an hour.
When I finally tore myself away, I realised I hadn't left enough time for all my chores (laundry, logs, lunch) with the additional embuggerance of Getting The Sunday Paper (which no one will read), making a pudding (which I certainly will not eat) and the pleasure of popping down to a neighbour for village bonhomie to fit in. So,I asked Darling to make the ice cream which he is so desirous of - having bought the machine and ingredients. The answer came, 'I am in the middle of doing something, and you are asking me to do something else which I have no interest in'. Me too, and it's the middle of my life. I hate ice cream so much I had 'a note' from Mum at prep school to say I didn't have to eat it. And I loathe gadgets of any sort. I can just about handle a wooden spoon and a sharp knife.
If I sounded bleak yesterday by the way, I am back on it today. No reason to mourn for the loss of approval forever. It isn't how it should have been, but it's not all bad and I am a tough little sod.
So meat was roasted, spuds and 'snips gilded and Yorkshires ready for the off. But by lunchtime itself I begun to doubt to arrival of the rellies. I telephoned and my doubts were confirmed. They had forgotten. So I went to the village party for a preprandial and said hello to the new folk I'd been wanting to meet and kissed or smiled at the others who are all decent and kind and generally OK. I guess I conformed to the rule 'Always leave them wanting more'. I was only there for twenty minutes and I would have been happy to do the full two hours. But I was alone, as ever, and there was lunch to serve back at base camp.
And finally after everyone had used 'their fists and the back of their spoons' (stolen from Pete McCarthy) to ram yet another damn meal down their overstuffed gullets like a flock of foie gras geese, I took the dog out for her pre-birthday walk in the freezing dusk sunlight. The iPod gave me Jem Its Amazing, Sonny J Can't Stop Moving and Labbi Siffre Something Inside So Good. Good call DJ. Tomorrow is Monday and I am sticking to the rules.