Pies are BAD
Walked today down by the sea at lunchtime, after stocking up on sore throat pastilles and Lemsips. The tide was high, and it was sunny and it felt better to be alive than it had done for a while. A man was playing with a yellow toy airplane with a little engine. This drew half a dozen onlookers as he made it do aerobatics against the blue sky and something about this was very cheerful.
Bright clean light. I crunched down on the pebbles for a while just breathing in the sea air mixed with the honey and lemon of my sore throat sweets. Noticed half a dozen cuttlefish shells washed ashore, and an unusual amount of people taking photos of the sunlit sea.
Went home via Waterstones and enjoyably lurked about about buying some books, including a Poetry Writers Handbook which mentions AnotherSun.co.uk my dormant e-zine. Makes me wonder if I should resurrect it. Also bought a book by Paul McKenna called I can make you thin. A while ago I bought one by him on changing your life in seven days, and it certainly made me feel more positive for a few months. If I do have hypertension losing weight will certainly help. There is a useful brainwashing CD that goes with it too, which intones Pies are bad, pies are BAD but cabbage... Cabbage is GOOD.
Actually the only good thing about being ill is that my trousers feel a bit more roomy.
I also bought a gloomy book of French poetry, A short walk in the Hindu Kush by Eric Newby a Reuben recommendation, and a gothic book called The Green Face by Gustav Meyrink.
More vivid dreams: flying to Guernsey but the plane would not gain altitude and landed again at Gatwick. Worrying about my grandparents until I realised with relief that they were dead and would not actually we waiting for me.
Talking to Mum who is gradually sorting out her website and taking her paintings to a grateful public. Offered to help with any copy on it.
Last day of tormenting the delightful Sarah at work on her IM as I renewed my travel card to return to the dark place tomorrow.
Walked today down by the sea at lunchtime, after stocking up on sore throat pastilles and Lemsips. The tide was high, and it was sunny and it felt better to be alive than it had done for a while. A man was playing with a yellow toy airplane with a little engine. This drew half a dozen onlookers as he made it do aerobatics against the blue sky and something about this was very cheerful.
Bright clean light. I crunched down on the pebbles for a while just breathing in the sea air mixed with the honey and lemon of my sore throat sweets. Noticed half a dozen cuttlefish shells washed ashore, and an unusual amount of people taking photos of the sunlit sea.
Went home via Waterstones and enjoyably lurked about about buying some books, including a Poetry Writers Handbook which mentions AnotherSun.co.uk my dormant e-zine. Makes me wonder if I should resurrect it. Also bought a book by Paul McKenna called I can make you thin. A while ago I bought one by him on changing your life in seven days, and it certainly made me feel more positive for a few months. If I do have hypertension losing weight will certainly help. There is a useful brainwashing CD that goes with it too, which intones Pies are bad, pies are BAD but cabbage... Cabbage is GOOD.
Actually the only good thing about being ill is that my trousers feel a bit more roomy.
I also bought a gloomy book of French poetry, A short walk in the Hindu Kush by Eric Newby a Reuben recommendation, and a gothic book called The Green Face by Gustav Meyrink.
More vivid dreams: flying to Guernsey but the plane would not gain altitude and landed again at Gatwick. Worrying about my grandparents until I realised with relief that they were dead and would not actually we waiting for me.
Talking to Mum who is gradually sorting out her website and taking her paintings to a grateful public. Offered to help with any copy on it.
Last day of tormenting the delightful Sarah at work on her IM as I renewed my travel card to return to the dark place tomorrow.
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