Number of days since lockdown: 72

Number of days since Dad died: 6

Number of cigarettes Mum and I smoked yesterday: 23. Very bad. But at least we are now talking.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I feel the need to make myself cry. I mean at times when life is just a bit shit but there is nothing specific I can put my finger on. And at such times I turn to my favourite books. Growing up, I would re-read the part in Good Wives (the sequel to Little Women although in some editions, they publish it as one book) when Jo March’s sickly little sister Beth dies. I would be sobbing in minutes.

Later I turned to Linda’s death towards the end of The Pursuit of Love by Nancy Mitford, which if you haven’t read, I urge you to order a copy online right this minute. Or the penultimate chapter in One Day by David Nicholls. If you’ve read it, you’ll know why. And if you haven’t, you should. Just make sure you have tissues.

Obviously I don’t need such triggers at the moment. I am more than in touch with my feelings, hence the many episodes of uncontrolled crying recorded on these pages. But I am thinking of you, my small but trusty band of followers. And I hope that if you have a general feeling of sadness brought on by lockdown and all the other awful things in the news and are in need of a jolly good weep, that you might find my recent ramblings useful?

Anyway, that’s my justification. But I am also aware you read my blog for the humour and there hasn’t been a lot of that recently. I will try to do better from now on.

Not least because I have actually been talking to Suki’s agent by email at last. Her name is Ericka. She has read my blog and has a few thoughts to offer. To wit:

1. How long am I planning to make it because novels in this genre tend to be between 60,000 and 70,000 words and she has noticed that I have already written 45,000. (47,584 to be precise)
2. She says she appreciates the sad parts of the blog but she thinks I need to balance them with the humorous parts. (Obviously not a follower of Kurt Vonnegut, then.)
3. She likes Brian but thinks he is a bit one-dimensional. (What?)
4. And she thinks I should keep Richard in play because people can relate to him. (Can they??)

During our email exchange, I asked her if she was interested in representing me. Which was obviously a complete faux pas – apparently you have to wait for the agent to ask you, unless you are a Name. Which I clearly am not.

TBH, I’m not sure about Ericka. As Candy says, how can you trust someone who spells their name with a C AND a K when either would do just as well. She says I need to play it cool and see what Ericka comes up with.

Speaking of Candy, we chatted on WhatsApp last night and things sound really good with her. She is taking the greyhounds up onto Hampstead Heath every morning, which she loves. I feel a twinge because I do so love that part of London, I don’t know why. Maurice is feeling much better and he has given her an absolutely gorgeous ring made of diamonds and emeralds that belonged to his mother. I asked her if that meant that they were engaged and she said Oh Sadie, you are so old fashioned. Which I think means yes.

And she gave me some great advice re the small matter of last Saturday night with Richard. Which is this. I am in a vulnerable state because I am grieving for my Dad and caring for my Mum and he took advantage of me. Therefore the fault for what happened lies mainly with him. And that what the eye doesn’t see, the heart doesn’t grieve over, so it would be pointless and stupid to confess all to Brian and just upset everything for no purpose. Best to draw a line and learn a lesson never to let my guard down with my ex-husband again. Which is unlikely to happen in any case now he is back being all loved up with Karina, who is BTW young enough to be our daughter.

And I agree. Sort-of.

In other news, I’m watching the news about the riots in America and the response of that joke of a president and I have a few thoughts which I will maybe share with you tomorrow. For now I will just say this. As the grandmother of an adorable mixed-race little girl, and the mother-in-law of a proud young woman of Jamaican heritage, I feel very scared and worried. I want to stand alongside them and protect them and for them to feel safe wherever they go.

And I also know this. There is far more that binds us than divides us. We are all members of one race, the human race.

To read my blog from the beginning, just go to the link on the menu bar above or click here.