It’s Friday afternoon. When I worked in the prison Friday afternoons were tough. I was shattered, the place was like a morgue and all I wanted to do was go home and lie down in a darkened room. But being a Senior Manager meant no skiving. In my book managers should be first in and last out.
So how lucky am I now to be able to sit in my modest but lovely consevatory in the blistering light drinking a lunchtime glass of cold white? Yes, wine at lunchtime – there’s no better time – although I try not to do it at midday too often for fear of the habit. Still today I think I deserve it.
It’s been an odd week, not as much sleep as I would like – nothing new there – and a visit to my eye consultant who tells me it’s time to operate. I saw it coming (like the pun?) and fair enough, it’s just that to prevent any further derioration they want to operate on my best eye (my worst being too fragile) and I’m bound to feel protective.
Sight is such a precious thing and I’m lucky, I have it now in reasonably good measure, just hoping I can keep it that way. And now, while I’m in confessional mode, to my other guilty pleasure: I’m obsessed with pictures and I’m constantly painting them with my eyes – colour, form etc especially in my house – I’m addicted. I blame three years of the History of Art at U.E.A. all those years ago. How about you? What’s your guilty pleasure? Do tell…
Guilty Pleasure: The occasional afternoon in Newcastle where red wine is drank by the bottle. How soon I tire of the mild mannered dilettantes’ and scour the streets for the company of prophets in worn shoes (moved on twice this year for vagrancy).
Red wine – bit too hard core for me these days!