Oh, not this Saturday!
I lost yesterday afternoon entirely, as Whippersnapper is terribly ill and has had to go back to the vets. The cure for pancreatitis is to starve the cat, and the cure for diabetes is to feed it. Somewhere between, I hope he will get well.
So today- well, I am preparing a mega-budget for an archive of women's music and memories, in conjunction with Debi Withers, and that is going to take up a lot of today.
Meanwhile, I have been colour-coding the clothes on the clothes rail, which has been amazingly therapeutic. I have no room for a wardrobe, and have to keep clothes acquisition to the minimum as a result. But sorting through what I have results in new combinations and almost feels like buying new clothes. The chest of drawers that wouldn't go up the stairs in this mini-house is going into storage next week and I have to find somewhere to put six pairs of denim jeans and a selection of vintage woollens. Hmm.
Offsprog Two is hovering, or should that be hoovering, but I've just been in her room and observed her habit of storing clothes everywhere but her cupboard, so she's on a hiding to nothing today.
I have started to read Zoe Street Howe's book on the Slits, Typical Girls, and it's providing a lot of food for thought- the cosmopolitan make-up of those early punk bands, for instance, and the surprisingly manipulative Joe Strummer. I read Marion Leonard's book Gender and the Music Industry last week and was particularly taken by the way the Spice Girls reverted Girl Power to the woman's right to choose her make-up and shoes!
Later, I have a super plan. Gina sent me a link to a yodelling video, and I will begin today. I am certain that the meaning of life, or one of them anyway, is stored in the ability to yodel. I may not make the Tyrolean Yodelling Championships, but hope to edge a micro- millimetre closer to being able to mimic Dolly Parton!