Both the boys are out at the cinema. A mate of theirs is driving them into town and back, but I am trying not to worry about that. My daughter is away on a sleepover. Had I known everyone was going to be out I would have gone down to see Reidski, but I have to wait till tomorrow to see him. He's playing in a 5 a side football tournament tomorrow - how many matches I see will be entirely dependent upon just how bad the rain is during the afternoon. Yes, I know - fair weather girl friend. Next weekend he is playing at a real football stadium - and I will be there in Edinburgh to witness that. Should be a great few days up there and we are hoping to have a pint or three with the Scottish Patient who is totally oblivious to the fact that Reidski and I owe our relationship to him. We met in the comments box on his blog. Now I ask you - can you get any more romantic than that?!
Anyway, back to the solitude that is my lot for this evening*.
It is bloody marvellous!
1) Have had the laptop all to myself without any 'Are you going to be much longer?' hassle.
2) Have not had to argue with my daughter over whether or not Big Brother is rubbish (she thinks it is) (no - she doesn't really.) .
3) Practise the belly dancing I learnt last night when I went out to a Moroccan restaurant without fear of ridicule.
4) Can play whatever music I want. Currently playing this
and trying to decide which track I love most, but the answer seems to be which ever one is playing at any given moment. 'Made of Stone' right now - sensational.
If only I wasn't actually feeling very guilty knowing that I am passing on the perfect opportunity to paint my recently damaged kitchen ceiling this evening wouldn't be at all bad.
And now I am off to read with some reluctance. Not that I don't love the book I am reading it is just that when I have finished it I will have read all nine Henning Mankell books about the Swedish detective Karl Wallender and I don't know how I am going to cope without another one of then to get stuck into. (Reidski thinks he is pish, and yes, I admit the idea that a portly detective in deepest Scandinavia could have without even knowing it have saved Nelson Mandela from assassination was a little far fetched, but that didn't stop it being a real page turner of a story (White Lioness.))
* Until about 11.00pm when 5 teenage boys will descend upon the house, take over the lounge, and eventually crash out at about 4.00 in the morning.
