bed and a book 11 January 2008
How can another week be almost over and I still feel I am running to stand still? I will never get the hang of this darn year. The way it is at the moment I am just glad to have clean undies to put on in the cold, dark mornings. I am on the dry (though I get some dispensation pints tomorrow cos of a long standing ‘date’ for badness which I will report on thereafter) and so all I want to do is sleep. Actually that is not true, what I really want to do is sleep about 11 hours a night, then get up, make a cup of tea and get back into bed with a good book. Then when people ask I will say ‘oh I took to the bed in January’ (and Feb too if I thought I’d get away with it) and everyone would think it was because of depression and I would know it was the happiest month of the year. Anyhow, it’s useless to dream as rehearsals have to happen, my belly(s) are swinging low (like a chariot?) and a novel has to be tackled and done. Lovely. Just lovely.
And a lovely lady and mother of a friend, who I had some very fine nights out with, passed away yesterday and that’s not fair either. Margaret Shortall was her name and she was one of the Good Ones.
