To swim or not to swim

I am essentially a sociable person, I tell myself. I dislike intensely exercising on my own. The lido is in front of the house, the only heated 50m outdoor pool in London. It is lovely. I went a couple of days ago...but I am lazy, sorry...sociable. My sister won't wake up. I want her to trek all the way to London Fields so she can come swimming with me! But she won't reply to my texts... How selfish, I know.

Yesterday I started working again. Another week of work. It's great - bit of cash, slight easing up of the stresses of no cash flow (or at least, no incoming cash flow!). My day began when I walked into a huge cobweb, head first. The trauma of pulling a spider out of my fringe is imprinted in my shudder which remains from yesterday. Hideous. Yesterday was a rollercoaster, but a mainly pleasant one. Spider, work, shame, exquisite contentment, pleasure.

The shame was tripping over my own feet while sashaying past a load of builders. All girls know this shame, surely. We don't like being yelled at in the street by builders, or whistled...it can be embarrassing, but at the same time, we most definitely do. It's a sign of your womanliness. If they don't whistle or yell out a compliment, that is shameful, there has to be something wrong with you. Tripping in front of builders is the ultimate shame, mainly because they are likely to be there every single day for ages. I can only thank my lucky stars that I am not working every day, so they are highly unlikely to recognise me next time I walk past.

The exquisite contentment was having little baby Maia (my friend's baby) fall asleep on my chest for about three hours. I fell into that hazy, dozy, spaced out state of blissful contentment that only little babies can throw me into. She was so cute, despite (or perhaps because of) the whole body vibrations of wind, the occasional attempt to suck random bits of flesh on my chest or arm and the incredible gurning faces she pulls.

Finally, an old friend visited me for dinner and I felt, for a moment, as if I have my own home and can accept visitors.

This is my last day in London Fields, and with Pan the Cat. He came to find me this morning and sat next to me as I woke up, mewling at me. I think he knows I am leaving. He allowed me to give him a little cat head massage without hitting me or biting me and is now curled up next to me, sleeping, while I type. I didn't think this would be the case, but I've enjoyed looking after him and I think I shall miss him.

XX for Pan the Cat.