In the past couple of weeks, I’ve been obsessively tinkering with my flat to try to bring order to where I’ve allowed disorder to flourish. I sold my mid-century cocktail cabinet to a dealer and replaced it with something more practical. I removed ornaments from shelves in the kitchen, washed them individually and cleaned away the fluff and grease that had built up on the shelves. I thinned my books down a little, made a small pile for the charity shop. I drew up a list of things to sell on Facebook marketplace; took photos of the items and listed them. I ordered flooring samples and had some floor-fitters around to quote for pulling up the tired carpet in my bedroom (which my cat Bambam loves to chew the edges of) and laying a wooden floor. From eBay I’ve bought a set of small antique shelves to swap out for a more kitsch version I have on my living room wall (when I look at them I have a gnawing dissatisfaction). I finally got my car boot sale lamps rewired so I could stop worrying about them blowing my electrics.
I’m trying to get myself together. Prepare for something, eliminate the racing of my brain when I sit down to watch TV and notice things that could be improved, fixed, transformed. Even in that state I know it’s a faulty way of thinking, I am aware that there’s a projection going on – I’m taking my anxiety about the huge range of things I cannot hope to control and attempting to hitch it to the completion of a definable task. Once I’ve got that done, I’ll feel better. But each task brings others with it, stuck to it like dust bunnies. In a notebook I’ve created categorised lists: To do – writing, To do – work, To do – flat, To sell – Facebook, To sell – Vinted. I’m trying to tip all the tasks out of my head and onto the page to stop them agitating in my mind. The quick and the complex mingle: write an introduction to a book I love, fill some drill holes in the wall, clean mirrors, sort out under the sink, send invoice, fill in questionnaire. I look at the lists and hope one of the difficult ones will suddenly feel possible, appealing even. Instead, what more often happens is that an entirely new task comes to me with a mobilising urgency – buy a houseplant! Go to B&Q! Use up the ground almonds and make a cake. My day is filled, and I reach its end – ahh, that’s not done it I think, I’m still not ready. I take my unsoothed brain into the next day. I’ll have to try again.
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p.s. The publication date for the paperback of Arrangements in Blue has been brought forward to 14 March as hardbacks are now thin on the ground. Pre-order links are here and as you will have heard many authors say, pre-orders are a huge help!
