Blessings

Sometimes it seems to me, that the life of a well-educated single woman, with a decent job, a good salary but not enough to make her fortune, with no children, in good health, approaching middle age, in a reasonably orderly liberal democracy, in the first or second decade of the twenty-first century as they are commonly counted these days, is possibly the most enviable life that there has ever been for a human in the world. And perhaps the most enviable life that there ever will be (I've always been the sort to feel disaster is just around the corner, even as a little girl).

I am so glad that this young woman looks like she might be OK.

[Although a pile of free money is always good in theory, in practice it's hard to show how it could reliably make me much happier, at least for long. In moderation it does have advantages, but they are not all that easy to make use of.]

Head screwed on wrong

You know when you have your head set for the wrong thing? I was all set for a quiet afternoon at the Letchmore Heath tea dance, a bit of nice dancing, a bit of sitting and catching up, working on some friendships, a little trivial gossip about people I long to talk about with sympathetic people who will talk about them without pointing that out, perhaps a few ill-advised confidences, maybe indulge in some minor histrionics, and then all these really lovely unexpected people turn up and I do nothing but dance and drink tea. It was great, but it wasn't what I had my head set for, and I ended up wanting more of everything, both thrilled and inexplicably disappointed and having a totally confusing afternoon before ending up eating an orange in bed.