bulk :: 15st 2
booze :: not much at all, considering
painkillers :: just a handful
joints :: zero
healthy meals :: zero
films :: 5
visits to the dentist :: 1
days till deadline :: -5
panic level :: 2
whinge level :: 1
spring fever fervour :: 6
Before this month began, I vowed to myself that I would do a minimum of 15 minutes ball work every single day. Pilates Ball work, that is. ‘March,’ I declared, with all the wide-eyed earnestness of a man with a fresh start between his teeth, ‘is Abs Month!’
The first day was a doddle, because I didn’t really do it very well. The second day however, I did it very well indeed. An invigorating combination of punishing ball-work, some rather pelvis-heavy disco-dancing, and press-ups, all offered to Mr Motivator, the patron saint of Home-Exercise, to the accompaniment of the new Lemon Jelly DVD I got for two or three pounds in Fopp in Cambridge Circus. I love Fopp. I’m giving Fopp free advertising.
On the third day I woke up wearing a girdle of pain which simultaneously reassured me I had stumbled upon the right exercises, and also convinced me to take a day off. I’m back on it today however, and looking forward to throwing myself a beating a little later on.
Another little thing that popped into my addled hive this monthabouts was the idea of starting a daily photo website and calling it, let’s say, In the Details or some such. I’m just playing with the idea at the moment, not really sure where I’m going. I like details though, that’s what it comes down to. But is that enough on which to base a new blog? Why, of course it is. And the devil really is in the details, I’m convinced of that. So I decided whilst I ponder and thrash, that I’d post a picture here, every day in March.
I started yesterday, disguising it as a passing fancy, and your responses both heartened and amused. If there were a prize, it would go to daisyfae because, even though both of her answers – ‘…an egg in a porcelain egg rest. Or the granite nipple of David….’ - were wrong, both brought a low, lexicogenous hum to my lymph.
Oh, and nil points to Lennie Nash, who snatches the Russell Brand award for unnecessarily inappropriate remarks direct from Carol Thatcher’s grasping, toxicankerous mitts.
It was actually my gorgeous new mouse for my gorgeous new computer where I now spend every waking hour.
Today’s pic is down below.
So what with the stomach, and the photos, and all the other quotidian guff stuff, I shall be posting a lot over the coming few weeks.
In fact, I think it’s safe to say :: March is Quotidian Guff Month, where the byword is quantity, not quality.
In other news, I handed in the manuscript on Friday. Now, as I await verdicts and edits and last-minute panics, I am free. Free, I tell you, for the first time – to this extent - in my entire life!
Although the first instalment of the advance has already been swapped for a proper computer and used to eradicate the first third of an agonizing tax bill, I have paid the rent for the next month and I should be able to last till the second instalment.
So I have a bit of time. I’ve got a couple of weeks worth of things to watch and read, so I’m going to do that. And some pottering about online, offline and in my lady’s chamber.
(I have no lady, but if I did, rest assured, I would be pottering in her chamber right now.)
Now, where the hell is my jazz oregano?
Here is today’s image. First one to get is, gets it…