Diamond Geezer is one of my favourite bloggers. He’s funny, perceptive and informative. I’m particularly enjoying an annual favourite at the moment – The Count – where he enumerates pretty much everything In his life. I’ve learned loads about London (and its transport) from his blog and he never seems at a loss for a daily subject.
I, on the other hand, seem to struggle for something to write about. I end up in spirals of indecision and concern that this simply doesn’t merit and am far happier when the Weekly Blog Club has a theme. As soon as an idea comes into my head, I knock it into retreat by thinking of everything that it excludes. Being balanced and comprehensive is important but it’s daft when that gets to the point of being counter-productive.
One of Diamond Geezer’s occasional formats is to write a for and against post. He’ll pick a big subject of the day – I’m sure I remember at least one about the Olympics – and enthuse why it is a Good Thing and then criticise the same points. I thought I would do something sort of similar in writing about my day yesterday: very much a day of two halves, Brian. If I’d picked either to write solely about, it would present a very different picture to the whole: morning misery and pm privilege.
Thursday 27 February 2014 Part I
My husband woke me around five am when he got up for work; I didn’t have to be up for hours but couldn’t get back to sleep. Daughter, on the other hand, stayed unconscious hours later despite yelling, threats and my full array of passive-aggressive techniques for coercing her out of bed.
A cat or two had broken into the fridge and swiped most of the ham for her lunch. The lentil soup I’d made days before was starting to mutate on the cooker because no one had washed up.
Despite the early start, I still had to run to get to a hospital appointment on time where – of course – the consultant was running well over an hour late. He was pretty dismissive in telling me that my knees are knackered and my tendons trashed. Two medical students poked and prodded my lower legs and I was sent off with a fistful of MRI, blood test and weird injection forms.
After coming to running late, doing a handful of 10Ks and loving it more than almost anything ever, I won’t run again. There goes the triathlon ambition. Much sobbing.
Thursday 27 February 2014 Part II
I finished an amazing book (The Name of the Star, by Maureen Johnson) on the Kindle I’m lucky enough to own, before meeting an author at lunchtime. I knew Louie Stowell through Twitter and she’s been amazingly generous in her support for my writing. We talked about literary festivals and she kindly invited me to go along with her to a book launch in the evening.
My husband pointed out there was no need to go home first: he’d cook dinner for the teen and come to meet me later from the Underground station. So I went for a haircut (with bonus surprise massaging chair) in Chinatown, sat in cafes and browsed bookshelves.
The launch was for Banished, by Liz de Jager, at Foyles. It was so inspiring to see a debut author, meet awesome women novelists Robin Stevens, author of Murder Most Unladylike and Non Pratt, who wrote Trouble, and talk about the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators in the signing line. There was wine and popcorn and those rather wonderful customised cookies pictured.
My husband met me from the train, the washing up was done and the teen was in a lovely mood, full of jokes and hugs. Much smiling.