Today I went for brunch with one of my oldest friends, Pid. Pid has a manipulative father: he's far more manipulative, far more often than my mum, so I knew that Pid would completely understand how I felt about yesterday. We drove to this wonderful restaurant out in the Nadder Valley (Nadder = name of river) called the River Barn and I told Pid about what had happened while she parked and we walked to the restaurant. We sat in a separate room at a big table, with a settle each to ourselves (settles are great big benches with backs to them that you often find in country pubs). Having told her, I felt much calmer and we moved onto other things: pigments of skin (she's an artist), how to blend different shades to make a certain colour, the awesomeness of the colour green and how it goes with absolutely any other colour if you just get the right shade, the wonder of Assam tea and what had been happening to her in London. That's just a small sample. Our conversation has a wide range and we talk about things both great and small. It's the best thing about being such old friends: anything is up for discussion. We had a pot of Assam tea for two, Pid had a (proper) ginger beer and I had a (proper) lemonade. Then she ordered carrot and coriander soup and I ordered a toasted camembert and ham sandwich. The service was lovely and the place was empty except for another group behind us. Two of the people were speaking French, so my ear kept catching words.
Then, right in the middle of lunch (which was delicious), I get a phone call on my mobile phone. It's someone at Old Sarum, asking me to come for an interview.
And I'm back in the game.
(I confirmed when I got home that Dad had said none of those things. I made a comment about being "lazy" and he immediately asked who'd said that. Mum gave me a look that said 'on your own head be it'. I said that Mum and I had had 'a discussion' about my motivation. I could feel Dad giving Mum a look. No more was said about it. But she knows that I'm not going to let her use me again.)