I wouldn’t have liked to be Robinson Crusoe. I like my own company but I’d prefer to share it with a freezer full of wonderful food, a comfortable chair and a sanctuary of a bed. Truth to tell, I think solitude is luxurious!
Alone is a neutral word, neither happy
nor sad, but loneliness is horrid. I
like solitude, alone-ness freely chosen and embraced. Many days I see no-one, but I have up to two regular phone
calls so I am not totally alone.
I talk to myself quite a lot because I
get the best answers from myself. I don’t
want to argue with anyone and when I am alone there is little danger of
that. I can do what I want when I want:
I had two lovely snoozes yesterday and spent a couple of happy hours
listening to Radio 4 podcasts whilst I crocheted.
My diet is, to put it bluntly,
idiosyncratic. All I fancied for
breakfast was a toasted cheese and chutney sandwich and I enjoyed it so much I
had the same again for lunch. And both
went down well with a P G Wodehouse short story (audiobook).
I live in a state of chaos. Honestly.
I’m very untidy and the cleaner’s main function is to spur me on to make
the place moderately tidy. She comes
once a fortnight so I can still have twelve days of chaos between visits.
If anyone phones to say they’re on the
way I have a well-rehearsed dash-and-stash routine but it may take me a while to
find the bed before I retire. That’s OK:
I enjoy visits from friends: happy to see them come and happy to see them
go.
Anybody else like their own company best?