born of ice

Mary has now emerged, blinking, from the World o' the severed head and the nice and the good (Murdoch that is), and gulped down the 2 Streatfeilds in 2 gulps. She liked the one I didn't and vice versa. Theory of M's: we read them in opposite order.

Week off, over.

Plus side, now nearer payday. That last week always a sqeak through.


Friday was shit. Planned another day of reading mostly cos if you go into town money just fritters out of your purse and next thing you know you're in the red. So stayed home.

Home cold. No heating so is the temperature of the weather minus wind chill - about level with a bus shelter. Usually, the unlimited hot water in communal shower is the getout from hypothermia, so went down to do that.

Boiler had switched itself off. Was like scouring self in ice needles. Skimped hygene badly for fear of making self even colder. Decided washing hair might be fatal.

Went to launderette to take advantage of being off on weekday. Machine took my money but decided to do a wash less vigorous and determined than had selected on the dial, had insufficient coins to re-do it. Then dryer whirled the clothes round and round for endless amounts of twenty pences without ever venturing beyond "chill, clammy." All my clothes felt like wrung out bathing suits when I gave up and packed up.

Trudged, v sorry for self, back to room.

Landlord painting communal stairwell. Gloss white. Contrasts strikingly with milk choc brown wool coat (2nd hand, £20) Was trying not to brush walls, not that they'd put signs to say which walls were newly done, but could smell paint, knew they were at it. But the walls so narrow that they can't get a coffin down them. I know that, cos neighbour welcomed me with story of how they'd had to use body bag to get a previous tenant out and down the windy narrow stairs. Unforgettable bit of small talk, that, can recommend it if you have any conversational silences that need filling.

Vexed about spoiling my coat, ought be more careful.

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Somedays am v self pitying.

Went see landlord and paperback had arrived (£1.46 plus post) the survey of horrible militaristic 1980s toys written by angry feminist marxist*. Lots interesting information but the way he writes it you'd think he fell accidentally over the examples he researched, he makes it sound v random and ranty and tl;dr-ish.

*ETA: He's angry about gender role indoctrinating and economic injustice, but, mostly, in this book he's angry about army