1. It’s highly unlikely this will become a regular feature. However, I was literally getting snow-blindness from staring at a blank page over the last two days and I had to do something. As an interesting (you be the judge) aside once your retinas are properly word processor scorched try closing your eyes. It looks like an orange door floating close enough to touch…and beyond the door is a magical world where writing flows like methylated spirits through a piece of cheap bread and oh bugger it’s gone.
2. My wife is showing signs of being a foodie parent. I caught her cutting viennas for the kids on the angle.
3. I over-yelled at my daughter today. I kept quiet the first three times she kicked me while I tried to get her dressed on the changing table but on the fourth one I yelled “STOP” as loudly as I could. Right in her face. I then followed it up with a completely unnecessary “IT’S ENOUGH.” I felt pathetic. She kicked me. We moved on.
4. I set a new record for drafting enraged responses to a single email before deleting, trying to calm down and redrafting. Seventeen attempts. Sending any of them would have been a career limiting move. I should have sent them all.
5. I failed on run number one of my new nine week running plan to return to marathon fitness and start prepping for the Two Oceans Ultra next Easter. Come to think of it the Two Oceans site keeps bouncing my entry every time I try to pay. It’s a sign…
6. I daydreamed earlier that I was a monkey reincarnated as a man. I was successful, handsome (it was a daydream) and the proud owner of the largest fez collection in the northern hemisphere. In short I had everything. Until I went on holiday to a vague eastern European country and was set upon by vicious musicians in the employ of my arch-fez-nemesis (Bernard Muldoon III). They exposed my achilles heel – the uncontrollable urge to dance to accordion music – and led me on a merry jig to the edge of a cliff from which I plummeted to my death.
7. I’m nearly 5000 words behind in my imaginary NaNoWriMo competition in my mind. My internal cat-flavoured muse claims to have produced 7238 words already but she’s hiding the manuscript behind a wall of canned tuna.
8. I haven’t had an alcoholic drink for two nights and I haven’t missed the sweet nectar dripping from the brow of Gods to ease my soul via my poor, parched desolate mouth in any way.
9. I find being truthful extremely difficult and tend to wrap everything in some kind of loose comedic blanket to lessen my shame. A great big comedic crutch in the shape of a distended badger and formed entirely of unused vowels mined from the hills of North Wales. See. Told you.
10. I’m going to bed now.
Header image: “Accordéon diatonique”. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons – https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Accord%C3%A9on_diatonique.jpg#/media/File:Accord%C3%A9on_diatonique.jpg