This tragic drawing is supposed to be some orange peel on a plate on my fish tablecloth. I knew it would be a pain to do, but the orange bit looks rather like measles. Must try harder. Or paint it orange. Hmmm.
Tidied up for a bit, then went to Marks. Bought a couple of small Christmas things and the newspaper. Also found some microwaveable lentils and red and white quinoa which will last forever and be a handy staple for emergency meals, along with vacuum packed beetroot which will last until December and vacuum packed sliced meats ditto.
Had a chat with Nibby who keeps finding cottages in Macclesfield for me. I had to admit to a certain reluctance to leave London, unless possibly if house prices ever go up, to the West Country. For some reason I am still a little obsessed with Starcross in Devon, which I have only ever passed in a train. I think the pretty old houses and the Exe estuary location with a ferry to Exmouth and a train to Exeter and Torquay etc may have something to do with it. Seems a bit of an effort though, as the age of 70 approaches by leaps and bounds.
I am now dressing like a lunatic. Yesterday I wore red knee high socks with brown spots, red trousers, an orange sleeved vest, over which I wore a red and pink long frilly vest, topped by a long sleeved pink dress, all topped by my Gudrun brightly coloured cardigan. Today is worse, with a long sleeved orange top under a mustard yellow dress with maroon knee socks and over this, a sleeveless bright pink short dress. I may wear yet another lurid cardigan. We shall see. This burst into florid colour may be in defiance of my ancient years, or in defiance of the weather, which, though sunny, has turned damned chilly. I purchased a bright red winter coat, too.
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