New to the site? Delve into the archive Information about me List of collected quotations My poetry sites Other links: The ineffable Michelle Infinite Fish The Echelon Project The 80s (my era) Move to Mars See Ann Widdecombe dance Think I complain a lot? The Yarn |
Thursday 18.10.01 Meant to come in and blog on Monday, and haven't got round to it 'til now, so sorry if you've been waiting avidly for the next instalment of my life. I really think that I should be sponsored by bloody Nescafe, what with all the bloody coffee I'm pouring down my throat in an attempt to keep me awake. But there we go. Actually has been a bit of a mad week (surprise!) what with one thing and another, but never mind. I have still managed to make time to incorporate silly amounts of gossiping, chatter and so forth into my life and yet I haven't got round to ALL that fun linguistics reading I was meant to do for this afternoon. Priorities, priorities... Friday 19.10.01 Of all the things I can do with my life, running evidently isn't one of them. Here is my problem: I could go on the treadmill three times a week in the gym, but because my addled brain is so crap, it doesn't let me run in a straight line. I can't. For the life of me. So I fall off, and to be honest, the embarrassment is worse than the physical agony. I have tried and tried, and every time, I end up in a heap on the floor, even more dazed and confused than usual. So the voice of reason should chime in at this stage, and ask why the hell I don't just jog round the streets of London. You see, here is the Catch 22 - when God was making the human race (specifically my generation) he'd blatantly had a shit day or something when he made me; perhaps he had a headache or something because his omnipotence wasn't working quite as well as it should. So he installed in me a bog-standard cheapo-shit respiratory tract (or whatever it is that enables you to breathe), which doesn't normally cause problems, but because London is such a polluted pit, after about 10 minutes I encounter the alarming sensation of feeling that my windpipe is blocked. Looks like I'm going to live life at walking pace. Really am not complaining, honest... Monday 22.10.01 So today is going to be one of those days where I'm going to walk around and smile at everybody and everything (even the French Department) and few will know why. However, for the moment, I don't care; am suddenly in the business of indulging myself (OK - what I meant to say was I didn't quite get round to going to the gym this morning - but then nor did Susie, so that's OK) and feeling generally good. Yes. Random note added later:My good humour was dampened slightly in a visit to Boots to stock up on bits like shaving gel and so forth. Incredible as it may sound, I managed to spend £13.50 on stuff just to keep me looking human for the next month. How??? I don't know, but I do dread to think what I'd look like without it all. However, my mood was restored to its earlier heights having lunch with Mich, for we both decided to throw something in and share what we had. So I just shoved some kiev-type-things in the oven and that was that. Mich brought out some rice which she claimed had Chinese sausage in. 'Delicious,' I pronounced, tasting said sausage, 'what meat's it made of?' 'Oh, I don't know,' came the reply, 'probably dog.' |
