Well, this has been a weird week, in many ways. The Obama news was gooood. The news about prop 8 in California was depressing. I have been wondering about many a thing and getting little snippets of time to write creatively. We finished off our history course with six ten to thirteen year olds, today. It was a learning experience for us and I think they all thought it was ok too. Did you know that the world’s deepest hand dug well is in Brighton? No? Well, you do now...
I was prompted to comment on a blog on which I have lurked for many a year, attempting to understand the mindset and lifestyle of a US, fundamentalist homeschooler. I wouldn’t have done so (as I never have before) but I was referred to by the blogger, who knew that this ‘homosexual’ was reading... I had gone to see what she made of Obama’s election and she was, of course, horrified. I asked her if she read my blog but she said that once she’d realised that we were both women she’d stopped reading. So, there we go. Jesus, I have been led to believe, wasn’t bothered about associating with the most reviled of sinners. But I guess it isn’t documented whether he would have read the blogs of homosexuals.
I took a brief break from Patrick Gale (seven in a row and I was in need of someone else’s style) and read Ali Smith’s Girl Meets Boy, which has been waiting, patiently, on my bookshelf. It was gorgeous and left me feeling all invigorated and not nearly forty. Actually, I’m not forty for a couple of years but D will reach that big zero next month.
Well, off to drink some more tea and watch Michael and Diane. I have a strange fascination for them, sitting on their little sofa with the ghosts of their past selves screaming in horror from the shadows.