This week in her regular weekly column, Flaming Nora’s got the house to herself for a whole weekend. She might just go nuts...
This morning the fella I love and live with set off on his regular trip to Glastonbury and I won’t see him till Monday, although it could be Thursday by the time he starts to see straight and form words and Friday by the time he gets rid of the smell. I could have gone too but having festered at past fests, I now know I can’t give up my own bed and home comforts to spend a few days in a field with a crowd, even if the music’s kickin’ and the vibe is fine.
And so, while living with a bloke is great fun and I love it, having the house to myself, for a whole weekend is something to treasure while he’s away. This weekend lies ahead of me unwritten and open. What will I do? Where will I go? Who will I see? What will I cook that stinks out the kitchen now there’s no one to complain?
The possibilities are endless, and have no limit at all. I could spend a few days doing yoga on the living room carpet. Nah, too boring. I could invite friends down from up north but I want to be selfish and have some peace and quiet. I could play my cheesy music that’s stored at the back of the dresser where all the LPs lie in their grave, dust one off and stick the needle on it. Yes, that’s possible. Or I could watch Glastonbury coverage on telly and get really jealous and wish I’d gone with him, his mates and their lady loves too. Yup, that’s probable.
So there I am, thinking of all these very selfish, indulgent things I’m going to do, eat and drink over the next few days and then it hits me like a bullet to the heart that there’s only one thing I really want to do after all. My fingers find their way to speed dialling and she answers with a smile in her voice, so I ask her: “Are you doing anything this weekend? No? Is it ok if I come up to stay for a few days? Cheers, mum”. [Flaming Nora]
Flaming Nora is editor of Corrieblog
