Wednesday 22 September 2010

living goddesses and sonic screwdrivers

The blooming goddess still hasn't got back to me. She's probably busy wrestling Demons, or meeting an incarnation of Shiva - or alternatively she can't be bothered because she's poking people on Facebook. It's a bit irritating, because she was so utterly monosyllabic, no worse than that, nonosyllabic (yes, I have just invented a new word, and that's because I'm a writer, and I'm allowed to), so I could use a tad more information or I'm going to struggle to make my thousand words.
I'm almost better now, really, nearly, but I wasn't well enough to go to my Bollywood class last night, so I've missed out on a whole fifteen seconds more of slinky moves, shame.
Hubby still has his nose in Harry Potter (not literally), and I'm feeling a little jealous because I'm reading an autobiography of the chap who started the Grameen Bank (microcredit). It is quite interesting, but I don't think its as exciting as HP (no brooms or house elves at all).
Hubby and I had lunch today, in the spirit of injecting fun and romance back into our marriage (this is the kind of thing it suggests in magazines for women-of-a-certain-age, and I am that age now...). He told me about an exciting new strainer he has sourced for the water treatment works, and I told him about writing my scene where the heroine realises that her father is still alive. And they say romance is dead... I said that perhaps some gentle flirtation was in order and Hubby winked at me. He said that if I'd expected seduction I should have married someone else, and went back to discussing resin, particulates and borehole yeilds (enough to set anyone's heart a-flutter, no?).
Son is back downstairs. He can't sleep because he keeps thinking stuff about Dr Who and is worried about having bad dreams. Now he's off to eat some cheese, not sure how that will help. He seems to think that it will make him smile in his sleep and therefore have happy dreams. Hmm, not sure I'm quite convinced by that theory.
However, nice to see that some things don't change. Thirty five years ago it was me hiding behind the sofa when the daleks came on - nice to see I can pass that cheery childhood experience on to my own kids.
Anyway, I'm now off to see if I can buy a sonic screwdriver on Amazon.
Cheerio x

6 comments:

allijulivert said...

Maybe she's busy reading Very Personally Yours, or something. Didn't you say she was 15 already?

Have to say, Mr. Waif sounds like a right larf. Must introduce us some time ;)

Amy Waif said...

Hubby says I'm always dissing him on the blog. But I'm merely reporting what he says!

Amy Waif said...

ps - What is Very Personally Yours?

allijulivert said...

It was a puberty booklet we were given at school, I seem to remember.

Amy Waif said...

blimey, I have no recollection of that at all. I do remember the chubby teacher with warts writing 'cum' on the blackboard in PSE and asking us what we understood by it (not embarrassing at all for a group of fifteen year olds)!

allijulivert said...

Ha ha, I don't remember that, but we probably weren't in the same class for PSE. I do remember our (skinny hippy) PSE teacher saying that sex during menstruation was a bit messy!

Bet teachers aren't allowed to say that sort of thing now.