Nothing to do with Charlize Theron or Bob Dylan.

Location: Norwich, United Kingdom

Keep on Truckin'.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

A Week Of What?

I'm writing this from bed, surrounded by toastcrumbs, my dressing-gown, two litres of water, a W. G. Sebald and my phone. And why? Because a couple of weeks ago I managed to spread a Northampton-sourced disease right through this house. And that was bad enough. But now, we're talking the Big Momma Flu and if that spreads? Well, we're probably going to run out of food, start eating old copies of Cosmo and Marie Claire for sustenance and be found by Mr. Jay in three weeks time, skeletal and clawing tasty magnolia paint from the doors with our nails. Probably. Therefore I have quarantined myself with all the essentials for survival and am considering building a rudimentary latrine in the corner for when I finish those two litres, plus a water-butt on the window-sill to replenish supplies.

But whenst camest this disease?

Well, to tell you that would be to let you into the circle of trust and...Oh OK, you've twisted my arm. Despite your perceptions that I am merely a sad spinster, eking out a quiet youth until the day I can move into my sister's annex with several cats, most likely called Fred and Ginger, I did receive a card on Valentine's Day. From Mr. Jay himself.

Unfortunately, thinking him to be a wee bit of a cad due to past misdiscretions (see below), I've made the poor boy work his socks off. Last Thursday he took me out for drinks and, on Friday, I shunned his birthday party in favour of spending the weekend with the lovely Cat in Southampton. Yesterday, on my return, Mr. Jay surpassed himself not only by buying me Mini-Eggs (feeder!) but by taking me to the best place he could have: the beach! At this chilly chilly time of year, our trip to Southwold (via Memory Lane) was a day of interesting foam, brown rip-tides, Stella Artois, beach-huts and stones with holes in them. In short, I am easily swayed and it was lovely.

But it has nearly fooking killed me today.

Fortunately, Lydia owes me a few squids and I have persuaded her, my minion, to get me tissues and Vitamin C when she goes to Tesco's.

Add to quarantine-room construction list:

No. 8: Cat-flap for door


Blogger Kirsti said...

I just started reading your blog, but i am really impressed. Concider me your latest regular

7:57 PM  
Blogger Georgina said...

Wow, thanks!

3:19 PM  
Anonymous Jo said...

Ha ha George you remind me of the characters in the book I am reading at the moment, set in Derbyshire 1666, when everyone is dying from the plague. You don't have a big bursting red sore on your groin that smells like rotting apples do you?

6:14 AM  
Blogger Georgina said...

It's funny you should say that, because just yesterday Lydia painted a cross on my forehead and tried to throw me on a wooden cart that was passing by the house.

Thanks for the tip: from now on, I'll be on 24hr groin watch.


11:45 AM  

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