Dirty Laundry*

“Get out of bed and sort that washing out,” the panther says, breathing into my face.  His breath smells of rotten meat. It’s 5.30pm and I’m trying, and failing to achieve my afternoon sleep. “I’m not doing it,” I tell him.  He looks appalled and turns away from me, waving his tail.  He gazes out […]

Rope Enough*

“Right, I’m out of the door and on my way,” the message comes through from Seb at 4.04pm.  “Can’t imagine it will take me more than two and a half hours.  So: 6.30pm I reckon.  I’m training it.  Don’t feel like driving.  See you soon xxx.” “See you soon darling,” I reply.  “Please ring doorbell/ […]

Neon Panic*

Waking up with a start I see that it’s 6.33pm and I haven’t yet made a start on the day’s tasks.  After gym this morning I had a lunch meeting and then my sleep, so have to do Everything now. Crawling through to the kitchen, I boil the kettle, chop the stem off my artichoke, […]

Breaking Point*

Seb is on his way.  Or will be, after he’s done various things.  It’s been raining in Paris, so we’ve been watching Andy’s match from yesterday.  Now, at last, they’ve swept the courts and some play is happening.  It’s the French hope Alize Cornet – very pretty in blue – and the Ukrainian Elina Svitolina, […]

Murder On The Eiffel Tower*

“D’you know, he could win this,” John Inverdale says.  It’s the French Open and Andy Murray hasn’t yet hit a ball.  Let’s not tempt fate and make him lose in the first round to a qualifier, I think.  Probably best not to start to thinking about Andy-winning-the-whole-tournament at this stage. And they’re off.  Andy’s clad […]

The Killing Pool*

Sitting on sofa, in turquoise towel (not mine), paralysed by indecision, exhaustion and torpor.  Need to: 1.  Wash all the towels: this one; my mint green one which Seb used when I quite clearly said “you can use the bright blue one”; my hand towels which keep drenching in night sweat. 2.  Put on a […]