Two hours is nothing. It’s a drink or three in a pub, a European meal-time, a good drama length. But why, when it’s two hours of peace I require, is this chunk of time so determined to avoid me?
At 08:58 I dutifully left my silenced phone on my bed and walked into the spare room – my writing snug – and aired my fingers theatrically above the keyboard before starting, dead on 9am.
Sip the water, pop a raisin, type. Type. Type. Type. Sip the water. The silence is blissful; yes, I can picture Lucy waking in the dilapidated farmhouse in Tuscany and the ideas for its renovation are running through our brains.
Nut, plus two raisins. Do I need a wee? No, ignore that. Just type. Type. This is so easy!!!
09:34 the backdoor bangs; I know it’s Man of the Woods who has been out since 05:30. Calls up the stairs,
“Hun? I’m in for breakfast!” (what do you want – a medal?)
“Ok! I’m upstairs typing; remember I said I was going to do that thing? 9-11?” I can feel my face adopt that vague look even though he’s not upstairs to see it, which means do you remember? I hope you remember and basically ignore my presence.
“Want a coffee?” (Megg recommends water for brain activity).
“Er.. that would be lovely, no rush. You eat!”
I try to keep typing. Lucy’s now driving to Milan, driver’s window open, warm air moving her hair against her neck. She’s loving it, and notices that she is driving through what must be an enormous vineyard – smart areas of neat vines on either side of the road.. She passes an elaborate entrance off to the left, a smart tarmac drive behind tall filigree gates.
Sigh. Probably should go down and do dutiful wife bit. Entering the kitchen, MoW is stirring,
“Oh, I was just bringing it up!” genuine; that’s actually really nice 🤗
“It’s ok. Quick change of scene. 5 minutes!” Stamping hard on a lurking resentment, I smile and keep it breezy; we are both going to get used to this new routine. No need to force it home on day 1 is there..
11 minutes later I climb back upstairs. Easy, I can pop those on an the end. Very do-able 👌🏼
Ah yes … arrived and parked in Milan’s designer district to explore for two hours before meeting Vittorio for pre-arranged lunch. Left small hire car between a silver Aston Martin and a red Ferrari 💃🏼 (tee hee – this artistic licence business is brilliant fun).
Two thirds of the water gone (Megg will be so proud) .. all nuts and raisins gone… 10:28 white van pulls up on driveway. Bugger. My washing machine engineer.
Not domestic, but for my horse-rug cleaning business I run from a barn here on the farm.
The bain of my life are elements which die. Limescale, grease, sand, mud and horsehair all combine to short fuse them, rendering the machine useless. Luckily I have three industrial washing machines here, so two can be working in the background even if one is out of action, and my engineer is very obliging, calling in to sort this only 24 hours after I put the call in! (I also have a water softener which reduces the dying of elements, but guess what happens if you forget to replace the salt blocks for weeks at a time? 🙈).
I cannot ignore him. Only if I was invisible could I do that. So I go down and make him coffee; watch while he works. He departed at 11:07. 🙄
So I missed probably forty typing minutes but guess how many words I DID manage to type?
Mwah for being here with me 💋