bandh aid

Bandh still going on...prime minister still won't resign, maoists still in a huff, and we are down to our last packet of frozen mince, so no more shepherd's pie/spag bol/chili con carne/meat balls after tomorrow night. Also no more toffee eclairs, but that's because I have just scoffed them all whilst checking my email, like one of the characters from the Fantastic Mr Fox film (jolly good film too, in a wierd way - helps that George Clooney does Mr Fox's voice of course).

I think I should probably now throw away the sandwiches that have been sitting in the lunchboxes in the fridge since Sunday night (think Gary will be happy with three sausage sarnies as a late night snack).

It's all a bit groundhog day, except that we have managed to have different kids coming to the pool with us each day so far.

Luckily we did have one batch of post arrive pre-bandh, which brought with it my recommended reading from the wise Romantic Novelists Association reader. It's called 'Save the Cat', and it's brilliant. I now realise that in my writing I have been doing everything wrong! But the book is written so well that I feel empowered, rather than suicidal (we'll just gloss over the previous year's work on the last novel).

Hubby is sitting next to me getting huffy because the christian orphanage cum old people's home next door has purchased a mouth organ, all the better to accompany their happy-clappy hymn singing. I've just been looking on Amazon at anger management books. Hubby says he doesn't need one, and I think he's right, but I'm not sure if there's one on 'How to deal with your irascible middle-aged husband.' I might have a look now...