Sussex v Kent

Went to inspect Worthing.  Looked magnificent.  Lovely and crispy with nice pale brown carpets all new and perfect.  I quite wanted to move in myself until I was told about the state of the roof.  Oh well, we went for a lovely consolatory lunch near Eastbourne which included a particularly good treacle tart.  We then mooched off to Kent where nothing has been done and the bathroom is still fairly unusable.  I wrote a stinking email to our stupid builder to no avail as email doesn't work there.

I walked to Dymchurch on Sunday morning clocking up many a Fitbit mile.

New diet strategy: no sugar. That won't last.

Fit and fat

Swam in outdoor pool yesterday. Lovely day.  Walked there and back which clocked up loads on the Fitbit.  Raining today.  This fitness thing takes ages.  Just as well I am not working.

Sold Worthing.  Decorators must have done something amazing as offers are flooding in.  Will inspect tomorrow then Kent.

Man came to reinspect house - we are his second favourite house.  He can bog off or make an offer.  Will we ever sell our house?

Old bat

Suffering from chronic jetlag which is partly my fault for giving into it.  If I had stayed awake instead    of sleeping every hour of the day I would now be back on British time rather than more nocturnal than a bat that has been squashed by a steamroller.

And now it's time to get out of bed and on with the Fitbit.  This is my new bossy pedometer that sends me emails of congratulation with a little badge for efforts performed. I feel a Lands End to John o Groats performance about to take place any minute.  Well, maybe round the block.

Spoke to Agent Annie who seems determined to go out to the Caribbean despite having a hole in her leg.  Is she bonkers?  Oh well. At least I will be paid and the paintings will be cared for and she will have one leg.

And back again

Why does crossing the Atlantic feel like I rowed it in a bathtub? I am so tired.

Hot hot hot Caribbean

Well lots has happened.  I hotelled for a few days then moved into my house.  I had such a lovely time before Mr Smith and the boys arrived and an even better one when they got here.  I painted lots and last night had my show.  I got wrecked.  I now have a stinky hangover.  We sold a few paintings but I wish I had sold a few more.  Greedy me.

Going

Well, you will be pleased to learn that I did go.  Not a whole week's worth but I do feel lighter.  I have also learnt a new word "scatology".  It means having a fascination with your poo.  Yep that's me    - worse that than old bat Gillian Mckeith.  I don't weigh it but I am a bit keen on the Bristol stool chart.  Scatologist - sounds like an interesting collector of rare books or something ... How wrong one can be.  I suppose a rose by any other name would smell as sweet and all that.  I have read that laxatives are very bad because your bowel and colon get a bit lazy if they depend on them to do the work.  And as for straining - just heard from a lady who had a brain haemorage from overdoing it.  Blimey.  Let nature takes its course - drink lots of water and take some exercise.  Right ... I will do that then.

I am in a bait with my agent who hasn't bothered to pay me.  She owes me lots of money.  I am excessively cheesed off.  I was so upset when I didn't get paid in November but still not ....that is really annoying!  Oh well, that means more for me this time.

I really despair of Agent Annie.  She has done so many things wrong.  I wish she would pay a bit more attention.  I am quite cross with her today.  I suppose having a new baby, a whacking great hole in your leg that won't heal and being stuck in darkest Northumberland whilst everyone else pisses off to the Caribbean might make you a bit distracted.  I won't over egg the irritation.  I will get paid ... Just not immediately.

And now I have to paint a bit more of my big Bath House painting then roll it up and pop it into my golfbag.  So organised.  No room for pants or shoes.  Oh dear.

No joy

Agent Annie is not coming to Nevis for my show.  She is not well enough. Oh no.  Oh well, I will just have to do it without her.  I will go and see Gillian the owner of the venue and sort it out with her.  I want to cry but I suppose I can do this on my own.  I just don't want to.

I had the most lovely lunch with Jo and Sophie from WLR.  We went to the Savoy.  It was divine.  We ate lots and laughed ourselves silly.  What a lovely day out.

Mr Smith spent the morning having needles jabbed into his eyes.  I drove him to the hospital which made me late.  He couldn't have been that bad as he did the shopping.  He bought donuts - lovely fresh sugary gooey donuts.  And chocolate biscuits.  I had to sample them.  Just the thing.

It is now six days since I did a poo.  You can now add a donut and 4 chocolate biscuits on top of a hearty lunch to the enormous pile.  I have now added Dulcoese to the mountain.  I am now going to look up fecolith on line.  This is when your poo impacts to make a stone.  Never a dull moment in my life.