bulk :: 15st 1
days without alcohol :: 0
Wii Fit sessions :: 4
substantial bike rides (90mins+) :: 4
nagging stomach pain alert level :: elevated
I’ve probably got about eight weeks left up here. In Grimstone. And although I’m having a thoroughly pleasant time and am Getting Stuff Done, I am very much looking forward to getting back to London. I miss people. I’m realising that without leaving the house on a regular basis to spend time in the company of other human beings, I regress. I tend to go a bit vile. Last week I found a full beard on my face, and in the last few days I’ve sprouted a cluster of small red blotches on the crown of my Johnson. It’s grisly stuff, I know, but apart from being hunched over my two monitors like a low-rent Terry Pratchett, I’ve little else to report.
The problem of course, is hygiene. Or, more precisely, a lack thereof. Thankfully, cycling has come to the rescue, for when I return from an hour or so of grafting and gliding, I am invariably radiant with perspiration and sporting a magnificently oily calf.
I miss London, however, because I want to be forced to shower by the prospect of social congress, rather than the appearance of cheese-blisters.
You know, sometimes I look at my bike and I want to kiss it.
Speaking of dubious tenderness, the answer to last Mittwoch’s Bookscan competition was…
You’re kicking yourself now, I know. Stop it. It’s not allowed.
Now, as for this week’s Bookscan, I have a doozy. I also have approximately 200 CDs to give away. I’ve uploaded them all onto my machine and I’m about to sell them to the ghouls at Music Magpie, but if you can guess the answer to this here competition, you can maybe have some instead if you like. There's bound to be something you’d like there. My Fair Lady maybe? It’s very good. Some of it.
So without wishing to 'drown the miller' with preamble, name the book, claim the prize…
This weekend I am going to go cycling and I am going to tidy and read. I'm also going to attempt to adjust to life without joints. I have run out of ‘the herb’. In reality, the tough part will be no more tobacco, for which it's fair to say I’ve most probably redeveloped something of an addiction. And with the bastard tobacco back I go to square one.
Hello, pleased to meet you. I want to get fit, stop smoking, move to London and meet a doe-eyed, shark-toothed, pen-hearted woman who loves me for who I am.
Who's with me?
Ah. I see I'm alone. So be it.
Have a pleasant weekend.