OK now this is weird. This is the first time I’ve ever posted a pic that hadn’t been taken on the day to which this text refers. I’ve got a bit behind in my postings because I’ve been so busy doing stuff and when I sorted through the photos I’ve taken, this one seemed to sum up Friday 13th part 247 to me.

Actually, I spent the day working hard on the new kitchen. I’ve concocted a plan where I can still use the kitchen, while I’m working my way around doing the refit. So, it made great sense to start the work in the part of the kitchen that has, hitherto, housed a small table and chairs, which had become nothing more than a dumping ground for post, shopping and all sorts of life’s detritus. We’ve only ever eaten half a dozen meals sat at that table and most of those were with my parents, when they came to stay and the dining room was out of action.

The area had wood-chip wallpaper, coated in bright orange paint, with a dado rail under which was tongue and groove painted a really bright blue. The whole effect was a bit like living in an ice cream van. To prepare for the new kitchen, I took out an old electric storage heater and got a plumber to remove a radiator too. Then I stripped the whole lot – the tongue and groove is remarkably good kindling so now we’ve got tonnes of the stuff. Then I filled the new wiring holes along with those from the wooden walling.

This morning, I did the final sanding of the wall (I am a complete demon with an orbital sander) and then did two coats of the new paint before falling asleep on the sofa and needing to be prised off it to go to bed by DM.

It occurred to me that before I became “damaged goods”, back in the good-old/bad-old days of working like a mad thing in London then coming home here and working like a mad thing here too, that I would once have described this day as an integral part of the Grand Plan.

DM commented to me recently that I’d stopped referring to it and that’s because I thought that it was pretty foolish to describe anything as part of a Grand Plan when I could barely bring myself to get out of bed each day while I was at my most ill. Now I understand a bit more about the black dog of depression, I realise that “Grand Plans” are a common symptom of the illness. I wonder if people looked at me and thought “Grand Plans”=depression or if they thought that my illness was faked to get on with my Grand Plan or even if anyone even noticed I’d stopped referring to it.

So, now you know the truth, this damaged girl stopped talking about her Grand Plan because of the humbling realisation that just getting through a day was more important. So, if I start talking about Grand Plans in the future, you’ll know to pack me off to see the shrink straight away.