What the hell am I doing? If I fall off this ladder I’ll break my neck, won’t be able to work and poverty will sneak in the back door. I like buying magazines without glancing at the £3.50 price tag. I like flying around the world when I feel like it…I like the fact that I have no idea how much my phone bill is! In one of my poor spells I couldn’t afford a 20p tub of margarine, and in another my children gave a round of applause when I put money in the electricity meter!
The paint promises to be Green Tea, and it is very soothing to spread, but I’m really stretching my limits trying to get it along the line of the ceiling considering that I’m only 5’2” and the height of the room is about 2 miles. When I get to the window I’m terrified that I’m going to crash out and land on some poor old woman, just popping out for her pension, so I take a few hours off and have another go after dark; it won’t matter if I flatten a teenager…well it won’t matter to me, though somebody must love them. I want to leave this room at least half-finished before I jet off back down to Devon in my £200 car, and that has to be cleaned out first. I came up here for a rest and can’t get a minute to visit a museum or art gallery for grandchildren and scrapbooking. Actually, I tell a lie; I did pop into town the other day and visited the Museum of Modern Art…and what a load of total CRAP; nothing but dull and uninteresting installations , and no photographs and, they’ve taken out the bicycle clock. I wouldn’t mind if they’d replaced it with something good. I slipped across the road to the art shop and bought some scrapbooking supplies - I think I might have passed the £100 mark by now. I also fell into WH Smith and bought a couple of scrapbooking albums that were on sale. Amazing bargains.
Again I wonder what the hell I am doing, wandering around the world, homeless, rootless when I’m fast approaching sixty, and then I think, I’ve got years to sit doing nothing in some old-folks home, maybe. And then I think, well I’ll just get them all doing arty-crafty stuff and turn the place into a growing concern, selling artwork, greeting cards and performing poetry. I only discovered scrapbooking a couple of months ago and I’ve got everyone around me at it. Tomorrow, someone at the gastroenterology department in the local hospital is going to chuck a camera down my throat and check for inappropriate behaviour of my body against my body. So maybe I’m beginning to fall apart. I have been tidying out some of my life, trying to remember stuff and get it written down for my children. And I have got rid of a lot of junk, though I keep buying more.
Well, I’d better go take a pill so I don’t get acid reflux during the night, especially as I’m planning to eat sausage and eggs in a minute and it’s already after ten. I keep a huge cushion beside me on the bed in case I feel it coming on, then I prop myself up and go back to sleep. So if I eat late, I begin the night propped up, then when I wake up very early in the morning I can get rid of it and slide down into my nice pillows for a different kind of sleep. Sometimes I think I lead a completely different kind of life than everyone else in the world, then I realise that we all do; no-one knows what goes on behind closed doors…and we are all different. I should be happy with my lot, and I really am; I know that behind some of those doors lie worse than little women wobbling at the top of a set of ladders with a tin of Green Tea vinyl silk.
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