Monday, 2 February 2009

Feedback Monday :: Sick

bulk :: bulky
booze :: none
tobacco :: none
healthy food :: none
exercise :: none
teeth fixed :: none
spirits :: low
days to deadline :: 25
panic threat level :: substantial
unpleasant change threat level :: substantial

I’ve just returned from a failed attempt to trek South to get my broken tooth fixed. It took me over an hour to get to London Bridge, where I had to catch a train the rest of the way. But of course, there were no trains. Because of the snow. So I came home. Miserable. I’m sick of this winter. February sucks.

Yesterday was meant to be the beginning of another fresh start for me. I was going to join another gym and sort myself out. Get back on track. Back on the horse. All that. But for two reasons, it didn’t happen.

The first reason is that I am sick. It started last week and is currently at its zenith. It’s mostly throat-based, which means that I have a hacking, wheezing, slicing, rasping, burning, vicious bastard of a cough and am producing repugnant green phlegm at a rate of approximately four litres an hour. (I exaggerate.) The other reason is that with less than a month to finish this book, the panic is beginning to set in and I realise that I need to work every hour that the good Lord sends if I’m going to be able to do it. In fact, if I’m honest, I don’t think I’m going to be able to finish it at all.

In fact, I’m definitely not.

Nah, just kidding. I really only wrote that last bit because it gives me a tiny bit of pleasure to freak out the publisher lady. She gets jittery. Don’t worry, publisher lady, I’ll definitely finish it. But it will be shit.

Kidding! It will be magnificent.

So. Instead of the gym, what I’ve decided to do is get back to basics and make like Max Cady in his prison cell.

I’m talking press-ups and sit-ups on the kitchen floor. Max Cady had a pilates balls, didn’t he? Well, me too, and I’m not afraid to use it.

This weather though. It's really unpleasant. I wish London was just a little more robust when it comes to dealing with snow. Where are the grit trucks of yesteryear? Where is the Blitz spirit?

This morning I saw a cat stuck on a shed roof a couple of gardens away. It was stuck in about five or six inches of snow and too scared to walk along the fence it would usually walk along to get down because the fence it would usually walk along to get down had disappeared under five or six inches of snow. I don’t know what happened because I had to head South to get my tooth fixed. I hope it's OK and indoors somewhere. Cats shouldn't be out in the snow.

Rotten day.

I hope you’re having a better one.

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misspiggy said...

but it's beautiful! And one of those days outside of everything, where you can sit at the window and dreamily contemplate the flakes falling and silently transforming everything. So hurrah to London for being so gloriously unable to cope with a bit of weather. All of us who have a cast iron excuse for not going into the office and drain our lives away in meetings are having a lovely time.

misspiggy said...

update: one of our neighbours is building an enormous snowman out the back of our flats, and the staff at the garage next door are playing with the cars they're supposed to be fixing by skidding them round and round on the snow. Definitely in favour of events that let grown people act like kiddies. If only I could stop faffing about on the internets and get my work done I could be out there playing too!

Some Chilean Woman said...

The nice thing about Utah is the fact that people here go crazy over keeping the roads clear of snow. You'd have your tooth fixed in no time! Then again, I think you've warned me about Mormons once on my blog...don't think you'd come here just to witness their mad snow plowing abilities.

Get well soon!

La Bête said...

BUT MY TEETH ARE FALLING OUT, MISSPIGGY! And what about the little birds? Poor little birds.

Oh, I don't know, Carla. I can think of a lot worse things I could be doing than watching Mormons ploughing snow. Mormons have lovely teeth, don't they. And a gaggle of wives! I wish I was a Mormon.

Anonymous said...

Bloody hell fire, Stanley, you snivelling sack of shit. What the hecking blazes is wrong with you? "My cock hurts, my bum hurts, my tooth is broken, I've got a tickly cough, I'm not losing enough weight...."

Jesus H. Get a bloody grip, will you? Please.

Obviously, I'm (sort of) doing the old 'cruel to be kind' thing here. But seriously, I've never known anyone to whinge the way you do. Not even close.


La Bête said...


That hurt.

Misssy M said...

Ah London.... embrace the snow- you'll never see it again. It's only a day!

Rejoice in the unusualness of it- get yourself a bin bag and go wheeeing down the nearest hill pretending you're in a cheesy Richard Curtis film (but with less bad acting).

Snow days are nature's way of saying, "Go on,. have a sneaky day off, it'll all be there when you get back"

For a particularly invigorating endorphin rush, run out barefoot to your back garden and do a circuit- it's the reason Scandinavians are so calm and peace-loving. (I'd say do it naked, but London is too built up for that)

Shimacat said...

I have just let our little cat out in the snow, because he was yowling to go out and play. Now he's doing that one-step-shake-paw-take-another-step-and-shake thing, and it is adorable.

Everyone here in Edinburgh seemed to want to drive to work today, which means I have walked past miles and miles of stationary cars, smug in my boots and waterproof. Chilly, but smug nonetheless. Walking in the snow is fun, especially as you can peer in and wave irritatingly at fuming drivers on your way past.

Or is that just me?

Chloë said...

Throat hurts, teeth are fine. Losing weight? Maybe next live. Not a gifted writer, no deadlines. No snow in the Netherlands. Life's good! Well sort of..

For what it's worth: you're entertaining me with your rotten day. Does that help a little?

Selena said...

:-( poor cat
Get well soon, Bete.

Snow? What's snow?

La Bête said...

That does help, Chloë, thank you.

I've been rejoicing in the unusualness of it, Misssy. I went out. Walked in the park. Took some photos. It was FANTASTIC! Oh, I'm so happy! You listening, Wellington? You shit.

Anonymous said...

make a snowman. better yet? make snowman porn.

it's been a long winter here... hope you're feeling well soon. and deadlines are suggestions. she'll get over it.

Timorous Beastie said...

If I were an editor (well, I am, but not that that kind), I'd give writers deadlines several weeks ahead of the real deadline, because I'd know that shit happens. I'm sure the same applies here - your editors will probably secretly not be expecting you to have the book ready by the date they gave you.

Nice Word Verification: thocust

Anonymous said...

Old Macdonalds had it right. Damn the grammar, I'm loving it.


Ann Anon

LiLu said...

I just walked to work in a BLIZZARD. Come on, Obama, you're only 14 days into the job... can't you give us a snow day to boost morale??

Heath said...

We humans are never happy with whatever we have...when its snowing,we complain...when its summer...we complain!!!

Discrete dating site for those married , or in a relationship,
and looking for someone married or in a relationship.

Anonymous said...

I hear you, Bete.

Hope you're now back on the horse.


La Bête said...

Hi LiLu. Welcome. No snowday? That's an obamanation.

Heath! Hello again, you sickening human spambot, you. Christ, I loathe you. You know what I particularly loathe about you? The way you pretend to give a fuck and therefore join in the conversation in a tiny contrived way before trying to sell your odious wares. You soulless insidious swine. I really have this urge to hunt you down and set about you with some kind of gelding apparatus. Please do not come back here.

Hey, Wellington, guess what. It's 6.20 on Thursday morning and I feel like weeping. But I'm not going to whinge about it. Oh, no. You know why? Because that's not my style, that's why. Have a nice day!

Anonymous said...

Béte, please don't pay any attention to me - I'm irrelevant.

I do hope you're not weeping. If you are, then I'll have to drive over there and dry your eyes myself. And you wouldn't want that.

I'm a rubbish eye-dryer.