Sleep sponge
Woke up at 5 o'clock thanks to that foul MSG. Got up and worked for an hour, cleverly fed Calliope and on returning to bed was rewarded with an untroubled sleep in till ten. Also slept in the afternoon for over an hour. I am a sleep sponge.
Bumped Doctor's appointment to Monday: but my knee is swollen and hurting, other joints aching and I feel ancient. I want to plop into one of those science fiction tanks full of a greenish gel and be attached to a bioengineered umbilicus. A few weeks later your broken body is pulled out of the gloop, and you find yourself renewed and improbably muscular. Then you are sent off to battle a race of huge warlike insects, and end up having your face injected by some disgusting ovipositor from the insect's body. Some hours later your comrades salvage your half-dead remains and you are returned to the gloop, but not before eggs have been scooped out in the nick of time from your head. Maybe the gel tank isn't the answer.
Erm... Back in Brighton it rained steadily most of the day. Unable to countenance work of any kind, tried poems, prose, admin, business... All to no avail. Like a raindrop on a furry leaf, it all slid off. Spoke to Mum, and pleased to hear that Mason back from his Brussels adventures. When he arrived for his meeting there were 150,000 protesters marching outside the station, which made finding his contacts a bit tricky.
In the evening umbrellaed down to Lorraine and we got a takeaway from around the corner, waiting for it we had a drink and a chat with half a dozen bald men doing the same, all very good spirited. Then back to Lorraine to watch an beakly-enjoyable episode of Wallander about refugee and drug smuggling while tucking into hot curry.
Woke up at 5 o'clock thanks to that foul MSG. Got up and worked for an hour, cleverly fed Calliope and on returning to bed was rewarded with an untroubled sleep in till ten. Also slept in the afternoon for over an hour. I am a sleep sponge.
Bumped Doctor's appointment to Monday: but my knee is swollen and hurting, other joints aching and I feel ancient. I want to plop into one of those science fiction tanks full of a greenish gel and be attached to a bioengineered umbilicus. A few weeks later your broken body is pulled out of the gloop, and you find yourself renewed and improbably muscular. Then you are sent off to battle a race of huge warlike insects, and end up having your face injected by some disgusting ovipositor from the insect's body. Some hours later your comrades salvage your half-dead remains and you are returned to the gloop, but not before eggs have been scooped out in the nick of time from your head. Maybe the gel tank isn't the answer.
Erm... Back in Brighton it rained steadily most of the day. Unable to countenance work of any kind, tried poems, prose, admin, business... All to no avail. Like a raindrop on a furry leaf, it all slid off. Spoke to Mum, and pleased to hear that Mason back from his Brussels adventures. When he arrived for his meeting there were 150,000 protesters marching outside the station, which made finding his contacts a bit tricky.
In the evening umbrellaed down to Lorraine and we got a takeaway from around the corner, waiting for it we had a drink and a chat with half a dozen bald men doing the same, all very good spirited. Then back to Lorraine to watch an beakly-enjoyable episode of Wallander about refugee and drug smuggling while tucking into hot curry.
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