... but I stopped. Now I'm a dad, and may blog again...

Saturday, November 06, 2010

106: coughing, self pity and giving up too soon

Cough cough I’ve got cough cough I’ve cough got cough a cough cough cough cough.  Tickly, chesty, a bit of both, pass me the Covonia.  Last night I fell into a punctuated sleep whilst reading I Am Legend by Richard Matheson.  Brief snippets of vivid dreams about being besieged by vampires were interspersed with hacking spluttering coughs.  I awoke again at 7.30 with more coughing wondering how my girlfriend managed to get any sleep with me loudly spluttering sputum non-stop through the night.

And now follows what is basically my to do list (might as well get it written at the same time as the blog; two birds, one stone and all that).  I’m putting the finishing touches on my pieces for the Frankophilia! exhibition at Salford University.  Read about it here on the BBC website.  I’m being interviewed for the Big Issue in the North in that modern way that interviews are conducted; answering a few questions emailed to me.

Time has passed since I wrote those last two paragraphs and it’s now the evening.  I’m cold tired ill and moaning.  And if I write anymore it will certainly be just one long sorry for myself whine and I don’t want to subject anyone to that.  Having said that...

No, forget the self pity.  I completed my to do list, but now I can’t breathe; stupid asthma.  Fucking bonfire night making the air smoky.  Forget the self pity and forget the word count.  This ends here.  See you tomorrow.

In the meantime, have this:

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