Unknotting again
Up at seven and made coffee and got straight down to work on my Skelton Yawngrave story. However, gallingly, the muse had checked out for the morning, so after gnashing my teeth, I contented myself with editing existing material for a couple of hours, as this seems to come from a different part of the brain.
Opted for an early swim, feeling a bit sluggish going up and down, and quite pleased when half an hour was over. This followed by admin stuff, such as paying a fat fee to my glamorous accountant, and shopping for office paper.
A couple of hours later I went for another wonderful massage. Painful at times, but in a good way. There is one point, low down, between my shoulders, that makes me flinch like a whipped cur when she touches it. I asked her to have at it anyway.
After an hour of this, I felt drugged and woozy. Dozed for an hour before setting off for London, penning the start of a poem on the train, which was sparked off by the massage.
Up through London to Stanmore and walked from the station talking to Anton. Good to see Mum and Mase. With Mum looking and sounding perky and cheery, which was good to see. She is craving meat at the moment, so spent the evening eating some lovely ribby chickeny grub Mas cooked. Sat about and chatting and listening to the jazz compilations Toby made.
Then I boofed onto an air bed, watching sleepily a film about Stalingrad and people being blown to bits, and shot by fanatics and Nazis before deciding that this may not be exactly the most relaxing of pre-sleep viewing.
Up at seven and made coffee and got straight down to work on my Skelton Yawngrave story. However, gallingly, the muse had checked out for the morning, so after gnashing my teeth, I contented myself with editing existing material for a couple of hours, as this seems to come from a different part of the brain.
Opted for an early swim, feeling a bit sluggish going up and down, and quite pleased when half an hour was over. This followed by admin stuff, such as paying a fat fee to my glamorous accountant, and shopping for office paper.
A couple of hours later I went for another wonderful massage. Painful at times, but in a good way. There is one point, low down, between my shoulders, that makes me flinch like a whipped cur when she touches it. I asked her to have at it anyway.
After an hour of this, I felt drugged and woozy. Dozed for an hour before setting off for London, penning the start of a poem on the train, which was sparked off by the massage.
Up through London to Stanmore and walked from the station talking to Anton. Good to see Mum and Mase. With Mum looking and sounding perky and cheery, which was good to see. She is craving meat at the moment, so spent the evening eating some lovely ribby chickeny grub Mas cooked. Sat about and chatting and listening to the jazz compilations Toby made.
Then I boofed onto an air bed, watching sleepily a film about Stalingrad and people being blown to bits, and shot by fanatics and Nazis before deciding that this may not be exactly the most relaxing of pre-sleep viewing.
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