I’ve had to get myself some new trainers with more padding in them because of this Zeros to Heroes running course I’ve started. It’s going well so far – it’s very early days – but my shins really hurt during the run and my heels afterwards in an exacerbation of my plantar fascistitis. I know other people spell it differently. So off to the Runners’ Shop I went and a nice young man, Younger Than You, helped me to some dayglo coral trainers. Apparently it’s like running on a cloud. I’ve done my first homework run in the new trainers now and they do feel much more comfortable and much less like running with oven trays on your feet.
Apparently, the City of London is now giving up its fight for post-Brexit financial services passporting. The European banks have maybe realised that they prefer to be in civilised Europe with great food and infrastructure and lower costs than on this rainy fascist island, I don’t know. Still, you know how difficult all this is for me. Just as I start to sort the house out as I’ve always wanted it, with the only kitchen I’m ever going to have, really, that is designed to my spec alone, we’ll have to leave and goodness knows when we’ll come back. People seem to forget that we’ll be renting someone else’s house for the next goodness knows how many years and it’s not the same as having your own. Now, some people have waved this away, saying that I’ll adapt and it will be fine to have an exciting new adventure and I do take this on board, but it’s not easy to leave your friends and the life you’ve made and start again in your 50s. Those damn Brexiters who thought they wouldn’t be directly affected by this have no idea, do they? And they will be affected when they realise how the fall in the pound is affecting their own tiny worlds. It makes my blood boil. It makes me want to weep.
We picked up Ellie’s new Visual Strain glasses today but they seem to be the wrong colour, with too much blue in the lenses, and the words still pop and fizz for her on the page. Poor thing is so disappointed, and frustrated. Luckily I managed to cadge an appointment with the optometrist on Monday so we can go and see if we have to change the lenses. Perhaps she was hoping that the coloured glasses would magic away her visual strain, hoping for a miracle, and when it didn’t happen she was disconsolate. But I’m sure we’ll get it sorted out eventually. School are being naughty and, having given her extra time and use of a wordprocessor for her assessment exams this week, are now saying that she can only have one or the other. So now we have to go in to school and have a fight with them. I’m dreading it. It’s like the time I had to fight about the earrings, or when I wanted you to move down to Croissy. To me, this smacks rather too much of #AllLivesMatter, you know, if they give her what she needs then it somehow disadvantages everyone else but of course it is not a zero sum game. Still, there’s a question of pride at stake, and pride and hubris run the world, as you know.
How are you getting on with the camera? It does take lovely pictures but you know how I don’t cope well with extended menus and I never got to grips with all of the functions. I hope you’ll be more successful than me. You know I said I was planning to buy a new camera? I’m waiting until I’m in the depths of misery to buy my new one. I have made sure not to buy anything in the sales so the camera will be great retail therapy, until I have to settle the bill. It helps that it hasn’t been released yet to give me time to save up for it. I know dad said I could borrow his, but that has a viewfinder and I haven’t got used to the shutter yet so some of the pictures I swore I took didn’t come out. And it’s not the same as one’s own camera, of course.
Anyway, that’s all from me for the moment. Wrap up warm. Speak soon