Which is a euphemism for bone idleness really.
I have spent the week doing so little is constitutes a monumental waste of time.
Yes, I walked the dog, yes, I did some project work with Leyla, yes, I cooked and wiped and cleaned and put loads of washing in the machine and then hung it out to dry and yes, I mowed the grass and pottered in the garden. But I singularly failed to paint the hall ceiling or rehang the shoe cupboard door or dust the living room shelves or a whole litany of mind numbingly boring jobs that facilitate my existence without any sense of enhancement what so ever.
I did however make it to a fabulous production of Much Ado About Nothing, which has divided the critics, but I thought it was brilliant.
I caught a very very touching version of The Cherry orchard at the national, Leyla came and found the first half difficult, a fact that can be measured by the level of fidgeting, it was such a long haul to the interval that most of the snacks had been eaten and she had wrapped herself up like an Egyptian mummy in my scarf. The second half fared better marred only when at the end the brother and sister standing on stage side by side gaze out onto the orchard the weight of loss hanging so heavily in the air I shed a tear only to hear Leyla mutter under her breath "Oh come ON, get on with it" which pretty much killed it!
I also made to the RA Summer Exhibition and survived both Leyla and my Mother, more of which tomorrow.
I did not paint had no desire to until the last day really, worse, I did not go to the gym much so I now can feel the extra pounds hugging my midriff .
Then half way through the week Emin dangled the carrot of a larger house in front of me only to snatch it away the next day after I had located the house and mentally moved in.... that hurt.
Moan, moan, moan.
More cheerful service resumes tomorrow!