Instead of 'A Room of One's Own' (Revisited), I Opted For... French Onion Soup

Because my first day in England, I was a zombie.

Took the tube from Terminal Five/Heathrow to Hyde Park Corner in London, and was too sleepy/zombified to realize I was only a few blocks away from my hotel, so some taxi guy made several pounds for driving me down back roads - not too far back, I later found out, but still 'back' enough that I couldn't see how stupid it was I took a cab with only a carry-on to drag behind me.

{This wasn't the first time stupid-cab-rides have happened to me. Years ago, I took a cab from the Brussels airport to the train station, and it cost me a small fortune. This was in the 80's, when I didn't have anything like any kind of a fortune, large, small or even minuscule, so I've never quite forgotten how pissed off I was to find out later (I always seem to find out stuff later, when it's, you know, too late)I could've hopped a bus or a train to the station for the next best thing to free.}

Anyway, taxi or no taxi, I finally ended up in my room about 11:30 am, Brit time...



...and this is where I stayed for close to 24 hours.

Like a fool, I'd thought this would be the day, alone in my room, in a kind of "A Room of One's Own' thing, that I'd read my manuscript cover to cover, since it had been eight weeks from the time I'd looked at it at all.

Sure.

I laid it out, as you can see in the picture, feeling all warm and golden because it still kind of surprises me I was able to cobble together the long-term will to write and finish the thing, what with life instruding constantly, as it does. I'm sure all of you know the feeling of finding yourself surprised when you see what you've been able to do - it's a happy shocker, although it does sometimes feel as if someone else possessed you when you did the writing. (A younger you. A different you. A you worth knowing. A part of you. Those kinds of you's.)

Anyway, rather than working away like some writer in one of those parts of a movie where they show The Writer slaving away at her desk, flipping pages over, touching her fingers to her lips on occasion, the model of Thought Thinking Thought, with amazing soundtrack music (that freddie wrote) playing in the background, I ordered food in and slept, alone in the quiet, and woke up and hung out, and slept again.

By the next morning, I was ready for company, and it was a wonderful day with my sister-in-law, Jan.

I was gonna do an inclusive post about the stuff that happened during my week in England, but it's gonna end up as several short ones, since my brain is still mushy peas.

Hope you all are having a happy Sunday! What have you all been up to, lately?