[Bored, Received Pronunciation Commentator]
We’re under starters’ orders… and we’re off! Leading the pack is Good Idea, following up is Intriguing Plotline, and close behind is Convincing Theme. Setting a good pace for the pack is Hard Work, always necessary to see in the field and also from the same stable, Long Hours. They’re making good time now and we see the field go around the first corner.
[Bit surprised, becomes alert] But what’s this? Lagging in the Middle and Loose Thread are suddenly leading, followed up by Self Doubt and Inner Confusion, making this a race anyone can still win. It seems Good Idea has lost their rider, and that’s now confirmed by the steward, Good Idea has lost their rider.
[Utterly excited, yelling at the top of his voice] But as we come around to the final sprint, all horses straining now with the effort, and the sheer weight of the course behind them, we find that it is neck and neck, with Not Giving Up Now and Sheer Bloodymindedness looking likely to lead. And as we come to the photo finish, we see Sheer Bloodymindedness winning the race, with a photo finish, and making us all very proud. Well done. Hopefully that will see them to the winners’ enclosure.
“Aha ha, yes.”
Mon amies, bonjour. J’ecrive mon lettre dans l’cusine avec mon mari, et le file ete dormir in the sitting room, and that is about as much French as I can recall in my exhausted state. Little man has decided again that early mornings are preferable, and I am killed all over again. Added to the wonderful person who decided that the best place to fly a large plane was over my house at 5.30am and I am actually not going to put myself behind the wheel of a car any time today. I’m in that tired state when if you close your eyes you automatically start dreaming. I don’t mean sleep, I mean you go straight to dreaming, so that when you are woken again you have to recollect that that you are the jowl faced old wan you are, rather than the lion tamer worried about the butter cream melting. Yeah. I don’t know what it means either.
It means you want to be a horse.
So, it is another Sunday. I’ve kept up with the writing and we have nicely broken the ten thousand mark. I am seeing the pace slow down, however, as I get better at the writing, rather than just the typing. You can see the seasons as the sky gets colder at that hour, and the moon shines high, and bright, over the insanity of walking across a dark campus at 6.00. I am loving it much much more than the swimming, but ironically the writing is much harder on the body than the exercise. At the end of one of the early morning sessions, I find myself easing myself out of the chair like a hostage without the ropes. Each limb has to be painfully stretched out, sloooowly, to get the blood back in there, and to remind myself that there is a life outside of these women, we’re done with them for now.
“Oh god me back.”
It is an amazing moment, though. It is a weird transition, going from the dark night, to reinventing myself as a worker in an office. It is like shaking off dust sheets while I try to convince others I’m kosher and above board. Trust me!
Right. It’s Sunday, and I need to cosplay as an adult. Wishing you all a grand day.
I drink about five strong mugs of the stuff per day. I start the day with two mugs, one with lunch, one with dinner and there is usually another one in there somewhere.
Keep it coming…
If I am to be a functional human being that has to happen. Maybe it is unhealthy, but it is not going to change any time soon.
Yup, looking good…
Unless you have some cocaine to share. No? Then back out with you to the back garden until you get me coffee. I get three unbroken hours of sleep per night, seven in total usually. Chemical assistance is going to continue for quite a while to come, I suspect.
And sure some coffee cake while we’re at it…
Here comes the start of term!
And here I am blogging. Seriously, though, I can see my caffeine intake go up and up this time of year. I try to give blood regularly and I can only imagine what the poor bastard on the table is like once he gets a pint of my stuff
Doctor: How are you feeling?
Patient: Like I have to clean all the things! Let’s go!
Doctor: Holy crap?
Patient: Something wrong doc?
Doctor: Your ankles just doubled! And your hair is now ginger!
Patient: Huh? (Looks in mirror)
The wee man knows all about coffee. Doesn’t drink it, of course, but he knows that Mummy gets her coffee after dinner and that doesn’t change. That, and the demands of life here at the moment mean that the coffee intake is due to continue, if not even increase.
I *love* you….
It is the only way, some days, I get to think clearly at all.