Upset

Uncomfortable, my food does not agree with me, cannot sleep and feet are burning.
What to do?
Even this is proving difficult as I want/ need to thrash around.
No chance of writing proper. I must sleep somehow.
I vow I will give up eating anything larger than an orange.
It's strange, books are full of traumas, but seldom to do with digestion. Yet this us perhaps the most constant of all  our bodily functions.
Too much information I know, but mine never let's me forget what stage its at.
Hunger, digestion or elimination. That's without the related shopping, preparing, cleaning up and rubish removal.
Speaking of which.....I feel ill

A week of writing

After a couple of months of little output, where nothing was easy, concentration nil, now all is well.
Words flow, even editing is flowing seamlessly, I am on a roll. Padding, cutting, refining, all easy.
Cannot tear myself away from the keyboard, morning, noon, or night.
Yeahhhh
I CAN do this, I am not stuffed with cotton wool after all...

The London marathon

It's strange how something I have.never taken part in stirs so many memories.
The times, when my father was alive, the marathon going past his house. The fun we had recognising people like jimmy saville, the crazy costumes of the charity runners, my son plowed past for a few years. Then everything changed, my parents moved to Australia with my  brother, my other one went to new Zealand, I to America and later around the world several times.
The world shrinks but the marathon brings back mote settled times and our connections to London.
Ahhh, happy days.
Miss you dad, miss you brother terry, but you are with me forever.

Why?

Why do agencies, such a public art galleries invest our (the people's) money in art not worthy of the name.
Today in the Tate I saw nylon tights stuffed with wire and other materials, curved into piles to resemble a shape between a large poo and a Willie twisted around malformed legs, piles of crumpled paper painted in pastel colours, and various paterns and scribbles a dog could have managed. The exhibits scattered around four rooms were proudly hailed as purchased of work by modern artists.
Any self respecting dustman would have carted them away as rubbish.
I wonder how much money was wasted on that lot.
WHY does no one ask US what to buy?
What sort of trip are these people on...

Rain, rain go away

Yes, I know, we need it. I don't Linc if its warm as well, it can rain but this chill wind is dreadful.
Tried to write in my hibernation but tired.
After a night of little sleep I could not concentrate. Laboured over sentence structure and got nowhere fast.
Oh dear

Out of tune?

Sometimes you feel out of tune with the world
at others like now, everything is in sinc.
Mood is a funny thing, I am so happy. The world seems right.
I feel on the brink of a tremendous breakthrough.
Possibly with my writing or story line, or more likely my whole life changing for the better.
Bring it on....

Away from home

Off to the seaside, wellll...the weather fooled us good and proper. There we were, thinking we were off for some fun which indeed we did briefly have. Then, the cold bit and bit us hard. We were no longer laughing..
Much, much later and after many hours of abject suffering in a house facing the fury of the windy sea. A house partially open to the elements, no double glazing or proper insulation we are beaten.
Bring forth the morning, some more sun to lull us and a car with a full tank to carry us swiftly back to London and a warm house.

Busy days,

So hectic with all sorts lately I never get enough editing and polishing of my book 'the hidden' done.
I know I should be pushing on and that it needs to be finished if I am ever to publish.
The slog of staying with it is hard.
I must work harder.

Night

Late night, strange and unsettled. What awaits you in the dark of the night? You will not know until it strikes you, will it be disconcerting or illuminating, enervating or fatal...
You will feel it already, whether you realise it or not, it is closing in on you.
A chill brushes your psyche and your blood slows. Swuuch, Swuuch, sluggishly through your veins.
DANGER
Adrenalin floods your limbs, but you have forgotten how to run, a step, two, but still you hesitate...
Too late, what you felt is there before you, more dreadful than you could possibly imagine. Your chance to escape is gone, you can only stand and await your fate...