I ♡ my eyes

and should like to thank those stalwart little face-orbs for being so good-natured and forgiving. After all the dreadful abuse I gave them, having slept in contact lenses, they have put up with 15 hours of constant use with barely a complaint. The complaint was one falling out ten minutes after arriving at the cinema. I caught it, however, rested it on my tongue to stop it drying out (more abuse, you see) and fished out the pot of cleansing solution I had stashed in my bag in case I needed to remove them during the day (oh blimey, you can see why people think I'm organised, can't you. May I point out, yet again, that it is because I am not organised that I have to think of things like that, or life would be chaotic) and then got out my handbag mirror to put it back. Of course, that was the moment the lights went down.

This did not deter me. The lens went back in. I know where my eyes are, and I know to stop pushing when I touch eyeball.

A splendid day and, oh, how glad you will all be to know (heh heh) that I am, again, good-humoured. I have a limited capacity for spleen and sadness and bounce back, as one does if basically happy.

This evening's do at the castle was to celebrate the publication of a series of catalogues of paintings in non-private* ownership; it's intended to go through every county and ten have been printed so far, including Norfolk, Suffolk and the Fitzw....... Museum in Cambridge. We were promised a 'special' price on the evening, which turned out not to include post and packing -- er, we picked it up, no p&P, special price? Furthermore, no paperbacks were available. However, stoutly supportive as we were , many of us stumped up the £30. Including me; indeed I doubled it and bought both the Norfolk and Suffolk versions. These have been stashed away and will form the basis of the Sage's Christmas present, as he is truly impossible to buy for. He will love these, however.

I was quite charmed by the lady I paid. I asked to pay by cheque and offered to get out my card. "Wouldn't know what to do with it if you did," she said airily. I like being trusted. Unspokenly, I had been sent an invitation to a Prestigious (well, a bit) Do. Therefore, my cheque was good.

And so it is.

Later, after a ten minute speech to introduce someone who gave a fifteen minute speech to disguise the fact that we were waiting for the Guest Speaker whose train was late, I went and sat by by friends who had commandeered a small sofa, but kindly budged up to accommodate me. We were in a divine spot to see the lady who had been taking the money looking at a cascade of notes bulging out of the cash box. A younger woman went up, obviously offering to stash it in a safe place. She was presented with a double handful of ten and twenty pound notes and, cradling them carefully, wandered off with protectively bent back to a staff room. I got the giggles. I bent my head to my arms and wept quietly. My friends nudged each other, and then me, grinning. I didn't know how not to laugh aloud.

It doesn't even look funny now. But it was, it was. It was the loving embrace of the banknotes which were about to spill from her gently clutching hands.

*as ever, trying to save myself from Google.

The film was Little Miss Sunshine. If wondering whether to go, do - not many films make the audience laugh out loud quite so much. Could so easily have missed the spot, but it was wonderful and, at the end, the audience applauded, which is a rare occurrence at the cinema. Well, at the 'art' cinema it was shown at.

After midnight, no blogs read today, out again by nine tomorrow (yeah, I know, but that's early for me :-), you always knew I was a lucky girl), mad whirl and all that. Flat shoes though, I wore the rather nice red ones and they were, indeed, admired, but they were not intended for quite as much walking and standing as the day has entailed.

I'm off to bed. Night night.