On retail therapy

Hell hath no desire to buy power tools like a woman determined not to be dependent on people who don’t deserve it…


I just bought a drill.

Isn’t it pretty!

It’s not the exact model I really (really) wanted but it was available and much cheaper and close to where I live. It will do the job. I hope. If it doesn’t, I will get rid of it and move on.

With some of the money I didn’t spend on the posh drill, I bought a set of posh drill bits.

And a set of posh screwdriver bits.

And a posh box of screws.

And an assortment of posh rawl plugs.

And a posh spirit level.

And a posh(ish) bluetooth speaker.

And gave a beggar my last Jammy Dodger* and 51ct.

If I’d given him the change from the posh drill he wouldn’t have to beg for a while. As it was he only got the actual change in my purse. And a biscuit. Now that Brexit has been fully brexited it’ll be harder to keep the supply chain going, so I hope he appreciated it.


Time to head home now.

This might have been a slightly unorthodox retail therapy trip, but I think I’m now ready to change more than the way my house looks…

* English biscuits with jam in. They’re not really that exciting except that they taste of birthday parties and childhood and I love them.

On change

Sometimes you get to the point where you have to change something.

Until then, you can cope and cope and cope.

That moment. The one that changes everything, can be tiny. One you might overlook if it didn’t happen at the exact right time.

There’s a special combination of attitude and exhaustion and hope and dread and longing and probably magic involved, that works with the circumstances and the strangers and the people you think you know, to produce a spark, to set all the balls rolling in new and exciting ways, to shake up the customary and create something amazing.

Revolutionary, if only on a small scale. A personal scale. The only one that really matters.

The newness, when it arrives, washes in, like the tide on a lumpy beach. Some parts flood completely, in one go, others take longer, the waves lapping longest at the shore of commitment and duty until they too relent and give up the fight ready to join the party.

Sometimes, after months of indecisive hesitation, you just know, and act, and relax.

And breathe. As if you’d somehow forgotten how to before, and only now remembered.

The kind of remembering which is more like relearning. Or learning for the first time.

Fresh. Deep. Exhilarating.
*breathes*

Again and again and again.

***

Tomorrow, or on Sunday,  I hope to finish the Dog series. This post needed writing today, otherwise I would have waited until afterwards.

On thinking instead of sleeping

It’s half past midnight* and I am lying in a crisp white hotel bed.

I’m probably supposed to be asleep, although I know that lots of my peers are at the bar, drinking mostly, and talking.

The rest, including DB, went to bed a while ago and are presumably sleeping soundly. DB is snuffling more than sleeping, because he has man flu.

I’m not asleep, yet, because I have to think.

I have come to the conclusion, that, despite not actually having an answer, I have an excellent** observation:

The world is full of strange problems and stranger solutions. Among the potential solutions are a lot of weird, unexpected suggestions and weeding through the options is quite fun in a very uncertain way….

* I fell asleep before I could press ‘publish’ 😉

** yes, I was proud of it 🙂