how can I make life more fun?

 

How are you?

I realised this week that you remind me of Angus Deayton – the debonair and sardonic humorous bits. I watched him in ‘Heartless’ and your mannerisms are similar, but you are shorter and have a cuter bum. And the hair. He has a dreadfully unflattering parting. But the humour is much the same. It makes me smile and just every so often he tips over to the jugular.

I had a life-defining moment at the week-end – long, long talks about whether I could or couldn’t go away and work abroad – and it was decided that I couldn’t as I need to be there for my 1.30am conversations with J1 when he comes and lays on my bed and wants to talk in excruciating detail about his sex life. It seems that the bond I have with my children and my extended family of Bear and honorary member Rosie, is deemed by others so strong that I have to be there or spend the rest of my life feeling guilty and regretting it.

Four more years at least. It seems an awfully long time to a person who thinks she could be dead tomorrow (forgive me, but it is part of my psyche) and for whom there are so many things still to do.

I have been trying to think about how I can make it more fun for myself. Part of this would be planning holidays. The other way is if I had a live-in love. I’m afraid you have to rise from your sick bed, ring me and give me a good talking to about the merits of seeing members of the opposite sex infrequently because I don’t buy it. I’ve decided that FP gives me all the things that money can’t buy, but for goodness sake! He should make a decision about permanency SOON! I don’t mean marriage, but life would be much more fun with grown up company – I would like to do dancing evening classes for example. So you can imagine – I am loading on the grief. If the sensible wimp won’t abandon all and come abroad with me then he can pull his finger out and get a job up here. I have my concern about levels of OOMPH, but if the truth be known will probably pootle on in the vague hope as one needs lots of courage and self-belief to go back and trawl through the ‘men out there who are looking’ prospectuses. However, I am probably less ‘damaged goods’ than I was 3 years ago and could be more ruthless instead of putting myself in horrid situations to give people a chance. OR do you think as a middle aged woman with attached children I should consider myself lucky that anyone is interested in me at all and just be GRATEFUL?

I am surrounded by catholic melancholia at the moment – what with the Pope and then Scarman James with his catholic guilt about being gay. Although he came out as gay when he was 26 apparently he hasn’t done anything about it even though he is now 33. He is reflecting on whether his life is fulfilled by being a mason, having 3 cats and being the stalwart of cat shows etc. As you know, I can’t imagine a life without either sex or the tenderness of intimacy.

Basically I wish someone in the last 3 years had driven up on a bike and just taken me away – made decisions on my behalf without having such an ego that they need to dominate entirely as ‘pay back’ for the looking after. You know, the sort of woman who has to look good all the time and be a trophy worth protecting. All those romantic TV programmes and stories must have their basis of truth somewhere. However – I promise myself not to retreat to my castle, but venture forth and be resourceful and determined in my continued efforts to find someone who will find me utterly delightful.

Was it you that told me Spring unsettled you?!!
Big hug.