Diary of a Provincial Lesbian Read Free Page A

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    Came home via supermarket. Bought six tins of cat food, three bottles of cat milk plus bag of cat litter for Tilly who now prefers to use the indoor facilities. Staggered up the steep incline that is our street, momentarily wondering how people like Sir Edmund Hillary had managed to climb Mount Everest even with bearers bearing shopping.
    Miriam’s mother has made a miraculous recovery. Tom treats us to chocolate éclairs at lunch time by way of celebration. Miriam visibly moved by Tom’s thoughtfulness.
    Owe Georgie a fiver.
     
     
    Jan 22 nd
     
    Bought copy of the Listening Ear and yes, they’ve printed my letter. But not all of it. They’ve left out the opening paragraph welcoming the influx of ten lesbians to Bittlesea Bay and only printed the section about the need for more dog toilets and calls for increased vigilance by dog wardens and the non-dog-owning public. Glad I didn’t use my real name. Signed myself A. Oakley as in Annie Oakley. Spent two hours writing a letter of complaint to the local about discriminatory editing of readers’ letters. Does the Listening Ear have a problem with the burgeoning lesbian community?
     
     
    Jan 24 th
     
    Receive email this morning from old school friend, Tabby, saying she is visiting another old school friend, Nina who lives in Tunbridge Wells and wonders if she could break her journey at my house. Problem: the last time I saw Tabby was at my engagement party to Ronald twenty-five years ago. Although we have kept in touch via Christmas cards and the odd email she has no idea that my proclivities came to their senses soon after. Show Tabby’s email to Georgie. She says, ‘You haven’t seen her in a quarter of a century, why would you want to see her now?’
    Which suddenly makes me insist that it is of vital importance that I do see her now.
    ‘But why?’
    ‘Because longevity in relationships is priceless!’ I almost shout.
    Georgie gives me a steady look and then goes upstairs to her office in the box room. I hear the door close. March up stairs, fling open box room door and demand, ‘Well shall I or shan’t I?’
    She looks up from her laptop as if within the last minute she’s completely forgotten my existence. ‘Whatever,’ she says.
    ‘What exactly does “whatever” mean?’
    ‘Whatever you want to do, just do it but let me get on. I’ve several important calls to make.’
    Do not like being dismissed so important calls can be made, however try to imagine myself to be Rose from Upstairs, Downstairs and bob a curtsey before saying, ‘Would you like a coffee while you make your calls, ma’am?’
    ‘No thank you.’
    Georgie is not amused or has never in the distant past watched Upstairs, Downstairs.
    ‘Are you saying “no thank you” because you’re annoyed with me?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Look, I know you want a coffee. You always have a coffee about now.’
    ‘Very well, I’ll have a coffee.’
    Unhappy with Georgie’s resigned tone but take her a coffee. She thanks me without looking up. Wonder if there is any significance about coffee. Is coffee - Georgie drinking it and me making it, making us both irritable?
    Answer: inconclusive. I email Tabby:
    Dear Tabby, change this to Hi Tabby , which looks more casual but not as casual as Yo Tabby . It would be lovely to see you again after such a long time. I didn’t marry Ronald, I fell in love with his sister would you believe? To cut a long story short I now live with Georgie, also a woman but not Ronald’s sister although she remains a good friend.
    Tabby replies within the hour: See you around 5pm on Tuesday 27th.
     
    Meet Miriam in The Corner Coffee Shop . We order two Coffee Ice Magnifico’s . Our mugs contain a small amount of cold coffee topped with three inches of ice-cream and pink marshmallow, a chocolate flake sticking out of each summit. Miriam and I often discuss diets. Usually Deirdre and Martin’s diets. Today, guiltily we do not discuss diets, we just luxuriate. I tell