Art History
I Think I’m Alone Now
Living in the House of the Flying Martinis I rarely get any peace. (Apparently the same goes for those living next to the HOTFMs, but that’s another post).
In the days before MeesterMartin and all the fringe benefits our liaison brought, I was quite proficient at being alone with me, myself and I. It’s not like I was Norma No-mates but I would actively choose to do certain things alone because I liked to. Nothing has changed in this other that the choice element; I still like to do a lot of things alone, it’s just that I don’t get to anymore.
This weekend I am on my own as the Flying Martinis are off to Glasgow to leave me to get on with my freelance job. I am quietly excited. But it is a bittersweet situation. Sweet because I get to have 48 hours to myself. No offence to my beautiful family. But bitter because I have to work for at least 25 hours of it.
Here’s a Things-I-Like-To-Do-Alone list, for the record:
1. Go to cinema in the afternoons. Aaahh bliss! Especially when there’s hardly one else even in the audience. I look forward to my retirement so that I can do this again. Aberdeen’s local independent cinema does “Silver Screen “ special offers every afternoon. I am sadly 22 years off their target list but eager to join. I can’t wait!
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2. Go to the art gallery. Oh! For an hour wandering round without having to go, “Don’t touch that!!”, “Don’t run”, “Yes fine we’ll go. Just give me five more minutes!”
When I was down seeing my Gran, Jessie, for the last time, I went with my parents, brother and husband to the recently re-opened Kelvin Art Gallery in Glasgow in between visiting hours. It was fantastic. Me and Dad wandered round chatting about art and stuff for two hours. I don’t think we’d done that since he’d taken me there as a kid. It was great. I challenge the “Culture Show” to commission us to do it again as a weekly slot. Let’s call it “Will and Gill Bluff for Scotland”.*
3. Sleep in a double bed alone. Sorry Meeester, you’re ace and all that, but nothing beats lying star shaped in a bed with no snurfely noises. I’m going to change the bed clothes on Saturday morning so that the whole experience is flawless. I may even use linen water, like a real girly. Not because I want to drown out Meeester’s scent or anything. Ooops talk about digging a hole for yourself….
4. Watching telly on my own. Because I am in control of the remote, and I can hear everything without interruption, and I don’t miss the start of CSI (see last post).
5. Eating like pig. I can comfortably empty a whole carton of M and S sour cream and chive dip and large pack of crisps without sharing any. OK, I might feel a little weird after and have to have a lie down, but it’s great when I’m in there. Ditto, chocolate eclairs. Ditto, Haagen Dasz Pralines and Cream. Ditto, Queen Green Olives.
6. Shopping. I hate shopping with anyone else. I am frankly not interested in what you want to buy. It’s hard enough finding what I want to buy. And shopping with kids. Well, just avoid that at all costs, frankly.
7. Having a bath. I never get to have a bath without Junior Misssy sussing it out. That girl can smell steam. She doesn’t even ask to come in. She simply strips off and comes in, like the bath was run for her in the first place and I just happened to want to join in.
8. Work. I need silence. Especially when I’m up against it like I am this week. I can’t even have the radio on. In my real day job I often take my laptop and find a hiding place so that I can get peace (my boss likes to chat- sweet, but often obtrusive). I often have to change hiding places as boss finds me after about 4 weeks of looking. I am not going to divulge the new one to anyone.
9. Reading. Aaargggh if only there was time to read anything other than a GPS manual this weekend.
10. Painting. I can only dream of this. Am enrolling me and my mum in a class so that I get allocated painting time. It’s the only way.
So this weekend, I wonder how many of these alone things I’ll get to do. Definitely 3 and 8 but the rest hang in the balance.
* I know this example isn’t of aloneness as such but if you’ve met my Dad you’d understand why it still kinda counts…
