It had to happen. At some point Life had to flex ite muscles and intervene in an assertive and unanswerable manner. It chose yesterday to do it, and I knew it was coming.
I had a full day at work, by which I mean telephone conferences and webinars from 9.00 until 5.00 without a break. We did manage to finish one meeting 20 minutes early so I got a chance to grab an apple and to visit the little girls’ room. At 5.00 I left work to go to the school where I am a Governor for one of Those Committee Meetings which went on until 9.00 at night.
Meanwhile Sigoth made spinach and paneer curry and there was a dish of it piping hot when I got home. Sigoth makes excellent curry.
I had started doing some writing earlier in the day because I knew there was a lot to do. I managed to crank out just over 800 words, but although I am keen to write this fparticualr section I do want to do so at a little leaisure, and that was not possible yesterday.
Nor today I suspect as I am away and won’t be home until gone 7.00. Another 12 hour day. Woe is me.
I enjoy my job. It is demanding, but the feeling of achievement is commensurate with the effort. I hope to manage this whole writing thing as the month progresses, and feel driven to do so. We shall see who wims in the fight between Life and EBL.
This incoherent rambling is brought to you from the TransPennine Express, the chariot of the gods, as we commuters like to call it. Well, something like that. Possibly dogs. I get confused.
In order to write anything for you to consume, I am taking the opportunity to write while in motion, and it is interesting how it affects one’s style. Part paranoia (who is reading over my shoulder? – yes, you! I know what you are doing! Stop it at once!) and part physical contortion (elbows in, knees clenched, bags on lap and laptop lid angled forwards due to the proximity of the seat in front), one’s style is necessarily a little tight and a little confused.
The carriage is full of young folks on their merry way to school. Young people! How can a body write with all those hormones wafting about? And dear Deity, the noise and inanity of the conversation! I thought I had managed to leave that behind in the 1970s but little has changed. Just the technology with which it is perpetrated.
The luxury of writing in a chosen place, set up to one’s own requirements, must contribute to the quality and quantity of the prose. Mustn’t it?
What’s your excuse for a Bad Word Day?
May your contemplation be undisturbed and you r keyboard situated at your angle of choice!