under another sun

The looming of cats Woke at five with a hangover, which was entirely Anton's fault. Got up groggily and blundered on with my Skelton Yawngrave business for several hours and then spoke to Mum. In the afternoon went to the local gym called LA Fitness, and have booked an induction meeting tomorrow. Home, and I spent much time cleaning my bathroom, as if by cleaning external things I could purify myself. Grey sunless day. What an appalling country this is. Looked at cats on websites. I am edging closer to getting one, although it seems these days you have to go through all kinds of hoops before you can have a cat. Some cat adoption places come around to your house to make sure you don't have cat fur cushions, or that you've not secretly got three or four pitbull terriers with cat issues. I am thinking I should get a kitten so that it won't always be looking at me accusingly and comparing me to its previous owner. A quiet evening in reading, and virtuously sipping green tea...

Leaves are the new pies Back to normal today, or at least a simulacrum of normality where my morning coffee is decaf, and lunch is a salad sandwich. In the evening stayed in to watch TV as this is the new going out. Drank sparkling water too, as this is the new beer. Had a swim, with no ill effects. But all in all, I have been feeling curiously calm and chilled, and the hypochondria is abating. Worked for hours and fruitfully on my Skelton Yawngrave story. In the evening Lorraine called around to check I was still alive: and we were both pleased to discover that I was. To celebrate we ate some Guernsey bean jar and watched a reality show with Drum and Bass hero Goldie and Blur's Alex James, among others, attempting to become conductors. Unusually I find myself taking a passing interest in the Olympics. Normally the idea of learning who can, for example, throw a stick a bit further than someone else makes me want to put my head in a blender.