I am jangling mentally and generally all of a fluster in the head area right now. So I decided to go for a little run. Running is good. I like it a lot and it is one of the few things that does genuinely lift my mood (things that are not a. illegal and b. in pill form).
I ran for a couple of miles along the Green Way for I am in Long Marston at the moment. It's odd running in a long straight line, when all you can see is a long straight line ahead of you. It feels like running into the horizon at the end of a Western but you never get anywhere. If it wasn't for the sheep changing into horses and then into cows in the fields next to me, I could have persuaded myself I was on an outdoor treadmill.
That is, until The Child came along. He kept cycling right next to me. And i mean, every time I slowed down to get away, sped up to get away, or pretended to take a phone call to get away, there he would be. Cycling alongside me just staring at me. I felt for a second that perhaps he wants to be my trainer, a la Rocky and he's wordlessly offering me encouragement. Perhaps he's going to whip out a knife and loot my personage. Perhaps he is, in fact, a Child of the Corn. I do genuinely get freaked out by children wordlessly staring at me. What is it they want? What are they trying to convey? Why do they stare so? I felt he was gazing into my soul. So I said: Er, hello. Can I help you? and he buggered off. Strange beasts, children. No offence if you have one or two or more of your own. I'm sure they're gorgeous and marvellous in the main and that.
On the way back from my run I stopped in at the graveyard that is next to my mum's house for a bit of a perspective booster. I do like graveyards. They feel peaceful and serene and there's such a lot of love there in the markers and the words they use. Of course, it could all be for show, particularly with some of the Victorian ones, but I like to believe that every single person lying there was loved and is missed by someone, somewhere. Also I prefer people when they're very, very quiet. I jest.
In between procrastinating like a motherbitch and drinking far too much coffee, I spent some time spying on Kate O'Mara through my mum's fence. For it was she of Dynasty fame in the garden next door. I know! A famous person! In Long Marston! Fancy! I was almost as excited as when I stood behind Russell Howard in Tesco Metro. I can confirm that she does look very good for her age and has lovely, swishy, famous person hair.
I have a Very Important and Scary Thing tomorrow and would appreciate any and every good wish from any of you... keep it all crossed, yeah? Not THAT. Ew.