Missing Raffy, badly

Now Raffy’s gone home, I’ve crashed. I know he’s just a dog, and that a dog isn’t really company but…

I feel so bad, I’m even thinking about moving back in with my ex just to have somebody close by. This is, in case anyone’s wondering, a SERIOUSLY BAD IDEA.

The lady whose bungalow I’m buying is moving into a flat on the same development as a friend of mine. You have your own space but there are communal areas too. Since my friend moved there, her social life’s improved so much. It’s such a great idea but you can’t move to one of those flats unless you’re over 60. I’d like to know what people like me are supposed to do.

I know why I’m getting fed up. Christmas.

This will be my first one, completely alone. I don’t mind that so much, what scares e is that it will be the first of many.

I joined match.com about six weeks ago, and so far, zilch. I’ve sent emails and winks to loads of people but so far, nothing apart from a couple of men looking for quickies.

Workwise, I checked today with Womans Weekly to see if they really did want ‘more sensual’ stories, and the answer is yes, they do. Nothing too exciting of course, that would never do. I had to check as I’m about to start work on the story I drafted a couple of days ago which would benefit from the odd, sensual scene.

I don’t expect I’ll get round to it until Thursday though. I had a couple of Writers Bureau assignments to mark today, and reworked an old story to send back to Fiction Feast. I’ve had enough sitting here, watching the world pass me by, so I’m going to turn of the pc and catch up on reading some of the magazines in my (ever growing ) pile. I might even see if I can conjure up some more story outlines.

Tomorrow morning, weather permitting, I’m going to Heydays until lunch time, then a have a quick tour of the market and head home. Then it’s the Christmas quiz at Spice so I’m not going to get much work done tomorrow.