The Mammoth
Odd beach like sensation in bed. Gradually worked out that now that there's a thaw, Calliope is trotting grit into my sheets.
All day I have had this image in my head of a mammoth in a glacier. The mammoth stands for progress and my joie de vivre which is resolutely sealed away. It's the January Blues. I hate January. January is scum.
The media is full of finger-wagging. An article on the BBC: a sedentary life spent staring at screens will kill you. As this is pretty much all I have done over the last few weeks, and I am morbidly obese, I decided to have a day of moving to stave off an abrupt demise. Had a longish walk by the sea, in nose-pinching cold. The pier almost deserted. A keen wind biting through the rides and stalls, and hardy men mending things out of sight with power tools. The merry-go-round horses stored in a pile under canvas sheets, and above them half a dozen silent seagulls stationary in the sky.
Then to my new cafe to work. As I walked in the two people behind the counter were having a cappuccino making competition, and asked me to judge. But before I was mouth deep in my latte I was thwarted, phoned by my French clients, wanting copy changes so had to return home. Worked for a few hours, then went to the gym only to emerge half dead soon after. I am so unfit.
Moving about tonight, tidying, playing with the cat, trying to avoid the murderous screens.
Lorraine has put her house back on the market, as her buyer had dropped out. A blessing in disguise I think, and the vermiform estate agent confident of getting another buyer soon. Also chatted to First Matie who has at last returned home after weeks on the road.
Thinking about Sprinkles in Florida who was having her operation. I bet she'd swap a blue day for what she has to go through today.
Below a beach crow in snow ;-) pier dodgems and an icy groyne.
Odd beach like sensation in bed. Gradually worked out that now that there's a thaw, Calliope is trotting grit into my sheets.
All day I have had this image in my head of a mammoth in a glacier. The mammoth stands for progress and my joie de vivre which is resolutely sealed away. It's the January Blues. I hate January. January is scum.
The media is full of finger-wagging. An article on the BBC: a sedentary life spent staring at screens will kill you. As this is pretty much all I have done over the last few weeks, and I am morbidly obese, I decided to have a day of moving to stave off an abrupt demise. Had a longish walk by the sea, in nose-pinching cold. The pier almost deserted. A keen wind biting through the rides and stalls, and hardy men mending things out of sight with power tools. The merry-go-round horses stored in a pile under canvas sheets, and above them half a dozen silent seagulls stationary in the sky.
Then to my new cafe to work. As I walked in the two people behind the counter were having a cappuccino making competition, and asked me to judge. But before I was mouth deep in my latte I was thwarted, phoned by my French clients, wanting copy changes so had to return home. Worked for a few hours, then went to the gym only to emerge half dead soon after. I am so unfit.
Moving about tonight, tidying, playing with the cat, trying to avoid the murderous screens.
Lorraine has put her house back on the market, as her buyer had dropped out. A blessing in disguise I think, and the vermiform estate agent confident of getting another buyer soon. Also chatted to First Matie who has at last returned home after weeks on the road.
Thinking about Sprinkles in Florida who was having her operation. I bet she'd swap a blue day for what she has to go through today.
Below a beach crow in snow ;-) pier dodgems and an icy groyne.
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