Goodness me, what a week. What a week, dear poppets. Imagine a week with ongoing home renovations dictated by the landlord, two moves (Monday, to get out of the Historical House, and Friday, to get back to it), a deadline, a Polish class, and a sudden business crisis, and you have my week.
Poor, poor stressed out Seraphic. Plus my mummy and daddy aren't coming to Scotland for Christmas after all, weep, weep, weep.
I have to admit that the Monday to Friday sojourn (our fourth) in the Royal Mile flat was pleasant in itself although I did think for a moment the climb up the narrow turnpike staircase with all my luggage had brought on a heart attack. It is such a nice little flat, and if you are coming to Edinburgh for a few days, let me know and I will tell you whom to contact to rent this little flat. It is a stone's throw from the National Library, which is wonderfully convenient.
I have a little dreamy dream that one day I will not live in the attic of the Historical House but in a flat in a slightly younger building rather closer to the heart of Edinburgh. The occupancy of this flat will be funded by another dreamy dream, that of making enough money from my books (plus savings from B.A.'s heritage industry salary). And that, of course, depends upon me actually writing and selling those books, which is a lot of hard work. However, that is the kind of hard work I don't mind, once I get over crippling procrastination.
(This reminds me that the Inner Child has been muttering something about getting back to Prudence. We are hashing out a plan for making Prudence earn her keep.)
But enough about me. What are your little dreamy dreams that have nothing to do with future husbands and future children? I'm looking for little dreamy dreams that you can potentially get by working for them. (And wouldn't it be marvellous if you could get a husband by working for one? Like if husbands grew in fields, and all you had to do was be a really good gardener, digging and sowing and weeding and pruning and fighting the crows and shooting the rabbits... Ah! There's at least a short story in that.)
Dreamy dreams, please!
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