Procrastination

I only have four whole days before we head down South and I have way too much to do. So far I have written precisely two Christmas cards, have wrapped only some presents and still have four letters to write and six crackers to make. I also have a great deal of paperwork to sort out such that I can go into 2006 knowing that our accounts information is just as it should be. Then there is making sure all the clothes are washed and packed and so on.

I am rather concerned by the fact that there are some of you who never use the word love in a non-romantic context. Mostly because I’m thinking I have identified another example of my social ineptitude. I once had a conversation where a good friend had been singing my praises rather, I interpreted this and responded, “Thanks; I love you too.” (Of course I was absolutely confident that this was what the other person was trying to say).

The prospect of hurting people’s feelings bothers me terribly and I have no desire to shock, but I have never really got a proper handle on social taboos. I know not to talk about fellatio over Christmas Dinner, but then I have never felt the need to raise that subject (except when as a child I couldn’t remember which out of fellatio and focaccia was the type of bread I liked).

That having said, I do remember feeling rather confused when I became sexual active, anticipating as I was, the climax that had been described to me as “a bit like sneezing, only nicer.” Well, at least I can’t claim to have been disappointed.

Anyway, point is, I hope I do not behave outrageously but I do believe that most things are better out than in, especially something as important as love. Whilst evidently I still have this difficulty with language and approach, but I would hate to feel it was impossible.

You’ll be pleased to know I do have a good old-fashioned British terror of physical contact, enhanced by pain and poor co-ordination. I can do hugs if I trust the person. I really struggle with this continental kissing business because I feel very vulnerable and frequently miss cheeks. But the one thing I can’t stand is if anyone chooses to touch me for emphasis, worst of all tap me for emphasis. No no no, you bastards, get away or I’ll set my Yorkshire Pudding on you!

Anyway, I am daudling about and blogging this nonsense because I have to write a few letters, including those to people who haven't heard from me since the summer. I have to write and say, "There isn't much news here, as I have been unwell all autumn and haven't done very much at all." which isn't exactly a cheery report. This is the main news, and the more I try to brush over it or sound philosophically positive about it, the more depressing it reads. I am even considering whether to make up an autumn of adventures for these two parties, who have no way of knowing any different.