I started the day the way I ended the last. Full of cold. And mildly tired. Apparently I was screaming in my sleep again last night. That’s another trait I have inherited from my father, a tendency to shout in my sleep. Although Pete said I was literally screaming. How awful must that be for the other person in bed. One minute calm, sedate, asleep. The next being awoken by piercing screams. I have lived through that once, on a transatlantic flight from LA. Thats worse. I have expected to awake to find the plane overrun by terrorists, not for some stupid cow from San Diego to be having a bad dream. My initial reaction was to elbow and tell her to shut up. I’m a facilitator, You see. I help channel peace and create solutions. I mean, she actually did shut up, as per my instruction.
I got to work and sorted quite a few things out. I got some things dictated, sorted some other post out and am pretty much on track to get things done by next week. A few more bits tomorrow and I I’ll be able to relax whilst I’m off. I have this very annoying tendency to like to pretend I’m not actually going away. I hate the build up to it, I get a sense of panic that il’ll never be ready. I also panic at the thought of other people touching my files. I’m a bit control freakish that way. I just hate it full stop. But I will have to let go a bit. It’s just not worth the hassle.
Great news. Operation red jug is completed. Team Captain Shears came through via Plymouth T K Maxx and got me a replacement. Ready for collection at the festive soirée in December. So thrilled, really had given up, but now it has been found. I can breathe a sigh of relief and stop pouting every time I do a weekend breakfast and wish I could have put the milk for the coffee in a little red jug to match our red caffetiere.
I received Mastering the Art of French Cookery part 2 today from Amazon. I had a brief look through and saw the recipe for croissants. Intrigued, I read on. The recipe takes 12 hours and was ultimately quite confusing. 12 hours. For breakfast buttery bread. I’m sorry, but my time is too precious. I might make the jam and fruit in puff pastry mind. I want to tackle my fear of pastry.
I have tried pastry so many times, but it either is too thick, too warm, too rubbery, meant to be puff pastry but is not light and just flops. It’s just a flop all round really. One key modern celeb chefs say is that the food processor helps. I must get one, again it’s key. I think it could help me turn a corner pastry wise. I want to tackle the pastry ready for mince pie season. Pete does love his mince pies. Although last year he did fall out with me for doing too many. But I’m sure that’s the point of Christmas, stop moderating, start masticating? And a good mince pie is so worth it.
No time for Ina tonight, was at the gym longer for a steam and a sauna. There was a hairy backed guy stretching and huffing and puffing in there, in a most off putting manner. He spent a good minute and a half moaning a relieving moan, as if he was letting go of some tension long building, whilst his hand was down the front of his shorts. I have never been so happy to see a rather surly looking girl enter the sauna in my life, when he left shortly after. Although then I thought I hope that wasn’t for my benefit…… Bizarre.
I had got two reduced green curry stir fry and coconut rice packs from M&S for tea. Was all very tasty. And quick, which was essential tonight, after a long day at work and the gym. I realised at work today that I need that solitude that the gym affords me, to escape the oppression that people around you sometimes bring. I love that time just to think to yourself, or rather not to. And to just abandon the tension of the thoughts and stress of life and it’s chores, and for it to be replaced with the tension of reaching a goal of seven miles on the treadmill, or 100 stomach crunches. It’s the setting of a challenge and reaching it, tout suite. Instant karma.
Hopefully some Ina in my life tomorrow. Definitely some ironing, whilst Nigella regales me no doubt. Will be another long day, starting with 7.15am Body Pump. But that gets it out the way, and I’ll then be able to get home, get in my PJ’s and get some Chicago ironing done. This is that exciting time, when your holiday is a potential, something to aim for. Post Chicago will be a right blue affair. Must book my London mini break to see Oliver. That will lift the spirits. May do that tomorrow. Little theatre and shopping break, now that’s something to look forward to, particularly when you work can be doom and gloom.
Until then, I’m off to dream about Chicago. Or East Hampton with Ina. Hopefully it won’t end up with me screaming blue bloody murder again like last night. God knows what I was dreaming of. It wasn’t Ina…… Or was it? Nah, she is too lovely. Unless she hates my blog. And wishes to roast me at 375 in a Dutch oven…….. Surely she wouldn’t. She will feel the love. And know I worship the very marble floor tiled ground she walks over.
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