In which I am changed for good.
In this week I struggled to find the energy to be bothered about a single thing, but robustly found meaning in musicals of multiple varieties and jumped on the Wicked bandwagon. Here’s how it went.
Monday:
Watched Hamilton with mummy after work, opening the door to a week of musical whimsy and jollity. I reinforce my emotional connection to Angelica Schuyler and reflect on how deliciously politico it is of me to be so carried off on not just any musical, but specifically and particularly on Hamilton.
Tuesday:
Exhausted by the work day, I settled into the evening and allowed myself to be sucked into the Netflix whirlpool where I was thrown about, offering no resistance or hope of recovery.
Wednesday:
After a gruelling day of office working I fled the office in favour of the great Public House, the Dougie Arms. Once installed there I waited several hours for Derry to finish his work at the theatre and collect me for home, adding a layer of subtle Parisienne mystery to the middle of my week.
Thursday:
Similarly encumbered by workday travails, and with the spectre of a seasonal cold looming nigh, I couldn’t have been happier come five o’clock to finish work. Deeply uncharacteristically for me, I decided that dinner should consist of simple frozen things easily collected from the supermarket and, in a move outside of my personal framework, we settled into potato smiles, spaghetti hoops and chicken nuggets for dinner. To reclaim some glamour, I then forced Derry to watch Hamilton for the first time, which so captured his thespian spirit that now he’s totally carried off by it and incapable of doing anything without singing “you’ll be back” under his breath.
Friday:
Worked in the office today, grafting until my little brain could handle not a minute more. I retired briefly to the Dougie to sit wistfully in the main window for 45 minutes before taking public transport home, ostensibly to tuck myself into bed and watch “The Diplomat” but instead sitting at my kitchen table for upwards of three hours chatting to the gals in the group chat.
Saturday:
Full of a desire to share our Saturday together, and also full of seasonal cold, we took the children for a brisk woodland walk and then returned home to watch Wicked on Amazon to test the waters. So carried off by it and deeply enthusiastic to know what happens next, we rushed to Carlisle to gorge ourselves silly at the all you can eat buffet before heading to the cinema for Wicked: For Good. Dazzled, delighted and very much spiritually aligned with Glinda, I returned home to a peaceful and restful night.
Sunday:
Full of Sunday feelings, I allowed myself to agree to accompany Derry to watch the Rugby match in Dumfries with his pal. Due to my unforeseen apparition, Derry’s pal invited his girlfriend to join us which then cascaded into us joining forces and hen-pecking the men before going out for a light dinner.
Exhausted by the social voracity of the occasion we returned home early in the night and I promptly fell asleep in the drawing room, only to be awoken and ushered to bed by Derry all before 10pm.