admired her confidence.
‘Not Wedding Crashers, ’ I said.
‘Like your highlights.’
‘Thank –’
‘Did you do them yourself?’
‘No. Er… no. In hairdresse –’
‘Like your jacket. Where d’you get it? Topshop?’
‘… No… Got it in work.’
‘Where d’you work?’
‘… Work for self.’
‘How much was it?’
‘… Well, got it on discount…’
‘How much would it be before the discount?’
‘… Not really sure.’
Was plenty sure, but it was expensive. I was too ashamed to say the price.
‘Shut up,’ Brandon said. Like Kelly, he obviously took an interest in his appearance. Neck-chains, rings, blond hair in Tintin quiff, yellowishtinge to it, probably the result of a home-bleach job, but applauded his efforts.
‘How about Lord of the Rings?’ he asked. ‘We have special extended versions.’
‘No. Good film, am not saying it’s not, but…’
‘What you in the mood for?’
‘Need cheering up.’
‘Why?’ Kelly asked.
Cripes, so nosy!
‘Wee… lll,’ I said, suddenly mad keen to talk about Paddy. ‘My boyfriend is getting married to someone else.’
‘Okay,’ Kelly said, contrarily refusing to take the bait. ‘What about Sleepless in Seattle ? That’s sappy.’
Frustrated! Hadn’t wanted to discuss cost of jacket but wanted to splurge info about Paddy.
‘Or One Fine Day . Also sappy. You could have a good cry.’
‘No!’ Brandon said. ‘Get revenge film! Kill Bill . Dirty Harry.’
‘ Dirty Harry,’ I cried. ‘Perfect!’
23.08
Dirty Harry is a marvellous film! Was exactly what I’d wanted. There’s a great bit when he gets revenge.
At one stage I looked up from Clint Eastwood and out through the back window of Uncle Tom’s cabin and for a moment thought there was great big Berocca tablet in the sky. Bright orange and looked like it was fizzing, infusing the sky with health-giving vitamin B. The sunset! Suddenly glad I had come to this place. Had learnt to appreciate the beauty of nature.
Quite nice evening. Thought about Paddy non-stop, but only picked up the phone to ring him four times.
23.31
Bedtime. Afraid I wouldn’t sleep, so took two NatraCalms and turned off the light.
23.32
Turned on the light. Took half a Zimovane (a real sleeping tablet jam-packed with chemicals, not some namby-pamby herbal malarkey). Would be terrible if I couldn’t sleep. No point risking it. Turned off the light.
23.33
Turned on the light. Took the other half of the Zimovane. Couldn’t take a chance on not sleeping. Turned off the light. Pulled the fake patchwork quilt up to my chin and snuggled into the pillow. Now that I was doped up to the gills, I was looking forward to a lovely night’s sleep.
23.34
Very quiet in the country. Nice. Soothing.
23.35
Comforting. Not sinister.
23.36
Calming. Not a bit sinister.
23.37
Is sinister! Too quiet out there. Menacing. Like the fields are planning to ambush me while I’m asleep! Turn the light back on. My heart was pounding. Needed something to read but was too afraid to go downstairs for my InStyle . Bookshelf in room with ancient paperback books. Thrillers by someone called Margery Allingham. Picked The Fashion for Shrouds, because about fashion designer in 1930s. Although book gone a bit damp, enjoyed it very much. Everyone in story wore hats. No one wears hats any more. Tragic. March of modernity.
Thursday, 4 September 9.07
Woken up by silence. Is very disruptive. Never thought would miss drunken men grunting and wrestling outside window. Life full of surprises.
Mattress feels filled with tennis balls. How did people cope in olden days? Different value systems. Community and wearing hats and children being able to walk to school by themselves. No value put on high-grade mattress, nice sheets, nice pillows.
Lean over the side of the bed and grab copy of VIP and stare, for millionth time, at Paddy, with his grin and his tennis racket, and am astonished by how wholesome he looks. Cripes, if only they
‘Not Wedding Crashers, ’ I said.
‘Like your highlights.’
‘Thank –’
‘Did you do them yourself?’
‘No. Er… no. In hairdresse –’
‘Like your jacket. Where d’you get it? Topshop?’
‘… No… Got it in work.’
‘Where d’you work?’
‘… Work for self.’
‘How much was it?’
‘… Well, got it on discount…’
‘How much would it be before the discount?’
‘… Not really sure.’
Was plenty sure, but it was expensive. I was too ashamed to say the price.
‘Shut up,’ Brandon said. Like Kelly, he obviously took an interest in his appearance. Neck-chains, rings, blond hair in Tintin quiff, yellowishtinge to it, probably the result of a home-bleach job, but applauded his efforts.
‘How about Lord of the Rings?’ he asked. ‘We have special extended versions.’
‘No. Good film, am not saying it’s not, but…’
‘What you in the mood for?’
‘Need cheering up.’
‘Why?’ Kelly asked.
Cripes, so nosy!
‘Wee… lll,’ I said, suddenly mad keen to talk about Paddy. ‘My boyfriend is getting married to someone else.’
‘Okay,’ Kelly said, contrarily refusing to take the bait. ‘What about Sleepless in Seattle ? That’s sappy.’
Frustrated! Hadn’t wanted to discuss cost of jacket but wanted to splurge info about Paddy.
‘Or One Fine Day . Also sappy. You could have a good cry.’
‘No!’ Brandon said. ‘Get revenge film! Kill Bill . Dirty Harry.’
‘ Dirty Harry,’ I cried. ‘Perfect!’
23.08
Dirty Harry is a marvellous film! Was exactly what I’d wanted. There’s a great bit when he gets revenge.
At one stage I looked up from Clint Eastwood and out through the back window of Uncle Tom’s cabin and for a moment thought there was great big Berocca tablet in the sky. Bright orange and looked like it was fizzing, infusing the sky with health-giving vitamin B. The sunset! Suddenly glad I had come to this place. Had learnt to appreciate the beauty of nature.
Quite nice evening. Thought about Paddy non-stop, but only picked up the phone to ring him four times.
23.31
Bedtime. Afraid I wouldn’t sleep, so took two NatraCalms and turned off the light.
23.32
Turned on the light. Took half a Zimovane (a real sleeping tablet jam-packed with chemicals, not some namby-pamby herbal malarkey). Would be terrible if I couldn’t sleep. No point risking it. Turned off the light.
23.33
Turned on the light. Took the other half of the Zimovane. Couldn’t take a chance on not sleeping. Turned off the light. Pulled the fake patchwork quilt up to my chin and snuggled into the pillow. Now that I was doped up to the gills, I was looking forward to a lovely night’s sleep.
23.34
Very quiet in the country. Nice. Soothing.
23.35
Comforting. Not sinister.
23.36
Calming. Not a bit sinister.
23.37
Is sinister! Too quiet out there. Menacing. Like the fields are planning to ambush me while I’m asleep! Turn the light back on. My heart was pounding. Needed something to read but was too afraid to go downstairs for my InStyle . Bookshelf in room with ancient paperback books. Thrillers by someone called Margery Allingham. Picked The Fashion for Shrouds, because about fashion designer in 1930s. Although book gone a bit damp, enjoyed it very much. Everyone in story wore hats. No one wears hats any more. Tragic. March of modernity.
Thursday, 4 September 9.07
Woken up by silence. Is very disruptive. Never thought would miss drunken men grunting and wrestling outside window. Life full of surprises.
Mattress feels filled with tennis balls. How did people cope in olden days? Different value systems. Community and wearing hats and children being able to walk to school by themselves. No value put on high-grade mattress, nice sheets, nice pillows.
Lean over the side of the bed and grab copy of VIP and stare, for millionth time, at Paddy, with his grin and his tennis racket, and am astonished by how wholesome he looks. Cripes, if only they
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