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.
How exciting.
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…
Any thoughts?
21 comments:
It's an "S"! Whoop! I got it!
I didn't got it? Oh.
Looks like a tattoo under a magnifying glass...
It's a signet ring owned by someone without much imagination, so he just put 's' for signet on it.
I'm thinking a button or cufflink.
the first letter of my real last name.
Bottom of a teacup?
i'm disturbed, and perhaps completely thrown off by the eccentricity of the letter in marble/granite. "eccentricity" in the sense of "off center". therefore, i believe it's a poorly constructed monogrammed cufflink, constructed from the salvaged keys of a manual typewriter, once used by a frustrated author in the 1940's who smoked a lot and died while being serviced by a diseased prostitute.
or? it's a button.
on the upswing I see, but in a good way :)
can't do these photo thingies, no imagination.
I'm trying to take a picture every day for a year!
www.lolaballerina.com (Named after my cat - oh dear!)
An S for Stan ring?
That's a button which fell of your Super Stan costume the last time you tried to get changed in a phone box.
Well done on the ciggies front too - I note that they're not even commemorated in your top-of-the-post-see-how-I'm-doing records.
I think it's a button in a lift, except that I can't think what S would stand for and it clearly has a sticker on it, which would be stupidly un-hard-wearing for a lift, so I must be wrong. I do think it's some kind of push-button (for operating things) though.
And I'm very excited that I got the last one right - I guessed it was one of those nubbly-nipply mousepad tracker-ball thingummies.
Have you Steam Punked your keyboard?
Daisyfae, you crack me the hell up!
Maria in Oregon
Why, it's a perfectly preserved Scrabble tile from the late 1400s - see how they frowned on the modern custom of displaying the letter score in one corner. Wonderful condition De Jour, wonderful. Where did you get it?
an alphabetised phone pad flicker upper on the right page when you push the letter device.
or it could be the tip of a salt cellar...an answer cunningly sleuthed by searching (without the aid of an alphabetised flicker upper) the other pictures you posted on photobucket. A flaw in your plan?
The enlarged S when finger hovering over an iphone text?
Ann Anon
Shame on you, Henk Van Vleck. Or should I say… Von Vlichtenschtein!!!
Nein, but seriously. Well played.
I’m quite pleased that you had to cheat to better my game though. As far as I’m concerned, my record is intact.
God bless whoever invented the pilates ball. I hurt my back over the weekend, so I've brought my ball to work and am perched on it at my desk. I look like a fool, but I'm in a lot less pain. Hurrah!
Béte - I think you're being very modest about your achievement in securing a book deal. Just thought I'd mention it.
I've been following this blog for a very long time (almost as long as you've been writing it) and so I'm aware of your hideously unpleasant early years.
After all the awfulness you've endured, I think you can feel justified now in jumping up and down, waving your arms around, and metaphorically shouting from the rooftops about your publishing advance. In fact, get on the phone to all those hideous imbeciles you knew at school and tell them all about it.
Or, at the very least, feel free to indulge in some shameless bragging on this site.
I know such behaviour could be deemed unseemly. But it's only a blog, for Chrissakes. Nobody's actually reading any of this stuff.....
Wellington
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