Ouch. Gin and tonic gives you a headache. I’d forgotten that. I’m not feeling super this morning. Apart from the hangover, I’m shaky, fragile and I detect a leak of sludge.
Im trying to breathe. Really breathe. It helps. And I’m going slowly. Even though we’re rushing I’m consciously slowing, for my own sanity.
I’m in my bedroom at home and I can hear the Matchioness laughing with her aunt, My Lady, the Queen’s Mother in the kitchen. There’s something so nostalgic and earthy about this noise, this scene. It makes me choke up a bit. These women in my family. So strong, such pillars of post feminism. I do t want to be the weakest link.
I let Posh down this weekend. I wasn’t there for her when she had to deal with something. I am so annoyed with myself. How could I be so self involved as to let her go through a bad couple of days on her own? I have to snap out of this selfish tunnel. It’s not all about you Dotty.
Maybe I need a Xanax. Or fresh air. Or two solpadeine, a bottle of Lucozade and a kick up the hole.
It’s been a busy few days. More later when I’m not seeing double.