25 April 2012 (Wednesday) - Whilst it Rained
When I came home last night I put the telly on. And fell asleep in front of it several times. I went to bed, and after a couple of hours sleep I lay awake dozing fitfully. I'm getting really fed up with this. I can't help myself but sleep when I have better things to do, and when I should be sleeping, I can't. I've been to the doctor who was rather unhelpful. Enough is enough - I shall do some research on the Internet to see if I can't find a cure.
I got up this morning with all sorts of things planned. Only to find that on day twenty-five of an official drought we still have torrential rain. In fact with a month's worth of rain having fallen today, this has been the wettest day of the year (so far).
I started off with an appointment with the counsellor. Since things went west for me last year it was suggested that I had time with a counsellor. To be honest I'm not entirely sure what I'm expected to achieve in these sessions. There is no point whinging about what might have been; I felt I was coming to terms with my reduced circumstances until this counsellor started depressing me. Today was my third appointment and it started off with her asking me how I was. I told her. I quite enjoy my life even though things could be better. The problem I have is that I don't like my work. Or, to be fair, it's not that I don't like it but it doesn't challenge me. I could do so much more. (Is this the reason why I blog, paint, write, organise social events...) The fact that I am finding it difficult to change jobs probably isn't helping either.
The counsellor lady seemed pleased that I had summarised my problem so succinctly, and seemed surprised that I had effectively summarised in five minutes what she had been planning to string out for an hour. We mutually decided to stop at that point, and I've agreed to get back in touch with her if I need any more counselling. I may go back, but I doubt it. To be honest I'm a practical sort of bloke, and counselling was a bit too airy-fairy for my liking.
I then popped next door to the framing shop and dropped off a couple of paintings. The chap in the shop said he'd try to flog them for me. Here's hoping. I then went home where I had a phone call. An employment agency had a possible job for me and asked me to send them my latest C.V. I wonder if anything will come of this job? I'd like to think so.
Mid-day, and with a break in the rain I went out and delivered some catalogues to an unsuspecting public. One of the punters told me that the Betterware people had been round only the other day. Oh well - such is life. It would be good to be able to co-ordinate with others who do this sort of thing, but I suppose that would go against the whole idea of free enterprise.
Home again, and talking of free enterprise the door bell rang. A young lad wanted to give me a brochure from his company, and could he make an appointment for a no-obligation quote for insulating the double glazing? I rather thought that the whole idea of double glazing was that it was insulation itself, but I agreed they could come back in a couple of days. And fifteen minutes later they phoned back to confirm the appointment and to make sure that both me and my beloved would be home. I asked why they needed both of us to receive a quote and I eventually wheedled the truth: they wanted us both home to sign up to their quote there and then.
They were quite rude when they realised that I'd rumbled them.
And on an otherwise dull afternoon I spent some time working on a small part of my ongoing novel. There is a section in which the heroine / victim / culprit / old trout (depending on your perspective) has a bit of a black mood. And thinking of her black mood rather upset my own. I must watch out for that in future. But having realised the cause of my depression I wrote a rather uplifting bit about two people, one based on me, and one based on many people I've met. That cheered me up. It's very odd how writing can affect my mood. And not wanting to warp my fragile little mind any more I then stopped writing and did some editing.
So far this novel is over ten thousand words long and is (sort of) following the plan I devised. I still have eight major scenes to write, and countless minor bits to add in between the major plot elements. I need to add quite a few more minor characters, and I'm not entirely happy with the names of the characters I have. Naming characters in my novel is rather akin to naming children: no matter what name you come up with you can usually find you know someone you don't like who has that name. I'm not naming my characters after people I don't like.
And then to arky-ologee club. I'd been looking forward to tonight's talk. The speaker in the past had given wonderful talks on the private lives of Nelson, William IV and the children of George IV. Tonight's talk on Georgian England promised to be enthralling. And it was. But the evening was also rather worrying. All through the talk the speaker was visibly shaking. She dropped her spectacles twice. I was expecting her to either have a fit, collapse or drop dead at any moment. Fortunately she lasted the evening, but I must admit I'm waiting for the message from arky-ologee HQ to tell us that Ada has pegged out...