Reasons why Fran wishes her husband could wear slippers
Reason 1. I was very busy buying my outfit and hat in which to attend the Royal Wedding of Harry and Meghan. Then I had to shop for the wedding present, and travel to London especially for the event. All this took time in itself, but to top it all, I then had to spend a few nights in a police cell after being denied entrance to St George's Chapel and charged with affray on its front steps, a totally unreasonable accusation bearing in mind I only gave the police officer one little push when he said I couldn't get in without an invitation.
Reason 2. I've also been busy writing my novel. It's amazing how many different ways you can write it. Here are some.
My novel (large font)
My novel (italics)
My novel. (in red)
My novel. (in a different font)
Another way to write my novel would be to sit at my desk and add more words to a manuscript but it's much less scary just playing with font sizes, colours and typefaces.
Reason 3. I've been doing housework, and because my husband wears white sports socks around the house which shed tiny specks of fluff everywhere he places his feet, the hoovering takes up a disproportionate amount of my time. It's not his fault; he can't wear slippers because of foot problems. But it means I can stand in the hall for weeks, watching the seasons go by, while pushing the vacuum cleaner back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, just for one piece of white fluff that clings to the carpet as though masquerading as a limpet or a fluffy white leech.
Worse, the hall carpet is blue. Imagine how that shows up the white specks. People come into our house and wonder why we have had snow in our hall while everywhere else in the UK is having a late spring.
Reason 4. I have been busy teaching my little English teacher heart out. I teach most of the day in a learning centre for teenagers who are excluded from school and then I come home and tutor private pupils in my front room. The nearer we have edged towards exam season (which is Now) the more lessons the private pupils have booked. Their lessons are usually an hour, but five minutes of that hour is taken up while they enter the front door and negotiate the thick layer of sock fluff in the hall (I sometimes lend out skis or snowboots) in order to access the front room.
I hope this has adequately explained my temporary absence. I will try to do better, fluff-allowing.
|Fran's blue hall carpet|