Yesterday, today and the weekend
Yesterday
The correct way to write yourself to death
I'd say it was fairly succesfull.
I've written a 1000 word entry to a competition. 1500 words of my ethics essay and a book.
Yup, remember that comedy book for Carey's Edinburgh show? It's finally done. Just needs gagging up and printing now.
Today I went to (etch-a-sketch) Anthony's funeral.
Problem number one - new shoes, comfortable for ten minutes or so. Not comfortable for a 40 minute walk around Leytonstone trying to find the church. In a suit, in the sun. Problem two - getting lost.
I have some really, really impressive blisters and a bleeding toenail.
It was the biggest, most impressive and most fun funeral I've ever attended. Hundreds of people packed the church and street outside. An army of Gucci, bling, rasta dreadlocks, huge hats, Jamaican flags and little me.
Everyone sang their hearts out, and clapped and laughed and hugged.
Today I had intended to do laundry, and shopping. But walking makes me cry, so maybe more writing instead. Possibly Dreadnought later and then a Birthday party of some description.
Saturday is likely to be the continuation of Paul's celebrations, but I have to be home by 8pm to welcome marathon Alex. This makes my need to shift to nocturnalism a bit harder; being up at something like 7am on Sunday, though I'll probably go right back to bed again. Steve K is doing Campbell's comedy for kids Sunday afternoon, shortly followed by Mel wife's housewarming party. Hmm, doing a night shift Sunday, so the more I sleep the better.
The following week promises lots more essay writing, a careers fair and some lectures, followed by more night shifts at the weekend.
There you have it. I have no happy and productive icon. Nor an oozing blisters one.
RIP Anthony.
The correct way to write yourself to death
I'd say it was fairly succesfull.
I've written a 1000 word entry to a competition. 1500 words of my ethics essay and a book.
Yup, remember that comedy book for Carey's Edinburgh show? It's finally done. Just needs gagging up and printing now.
Today I went to (etch-a-sketch) Anthony's funeral.
Problem number one - new shoes, comfortable for ten minutes or so. Not comfortable for a 40 minute walk around Leytonstone trying to find the church. In a suit, in the sun. Problem two - getting lost.
I have some really, really impressive blisters and a bleeding toenail.
It was the biggest, most impressive and most fun funeral I've ever attended. Hundreds of people packed the church and street outside. An army of Gucci, bling, rasta dreadlocks, huge hats, Jamaican flags and little me.
Everyone sang their hearts out, and clapped and laughed and hugged.
Today I had intended to do laundry, and shopping. But walking makes me cry, so maybe more writing instead. Possibly Dreadnought later and then a Birthday party of some description.
Saturday is likely to be the continuation of Paul's celebrations, but I have to be home by 8pm to welcome marathon Alex. This makes my need to shift to nocturnalism a bit harder; being up at something like 7am on Sunday, though I'll probably go right back to bed again. Steve K is doing Campbell's comedy for kids Sunday afternoon, shortly followed by Mel wife's housewarming party. Hmm, doing a night shift Sunday, so the more I sleep the better.
The following week promises lots more essay writing, a careers fair and some lectures, followed by more night shifts at the weekend.
There you have it. I have no happy and productive icon. Nor an oozing blisters one.
RIP Anthony.