bulk :: 16st 2
exercise :: none
appointments :: 1
disappointments :: 1
prophetic dreams :: 1
So. You will notice that I have lapsed. My year of living salubriously seems to have hit a brick wall. There is however, a reason for this. The reason is, I don't give a damn anymore. I have completely given up.
I have decided that rather than ending the year a lithe, healthy 31-year-old in a rewarding and loving relationship with a gloriously special lady, I shall end it a lonely, 24-stone disaster area with a fucked spine and a heart condition. Rather than running the London Marathon, my ambition is now to save up enough money for gastric bypass surgery.
I jest of course.
In reality, a second person - Frank - suggested that it would be very unwise of me to continue exercising until I make sure that my back is OK, so I have decided not to take any risks. In fact, I have made an appointment with a chiropractor for next week. Finally. Fingers crossed I'll be back running and cracking on with the healthy stuff very soon, and not - worst case scenario - sitting in a wheelchair covered in biscuits.
In other news, the flat I was hoping to move into in a couple of months has – for reasons very much not worth going into - fallen through. So it looks like I may be living with Keith for the rest of my life. Or at least until he moves his adorable new girlfriend in and kicks me out.
So. This morning around 7 I awoke from a very strange dream. It went a little like this...
I was attending an event – a talk about human rights – with Sally. We weren’t together in a sexy way, but it was quite clear that she wanted me. I meanwhile, was playing it very cool.
There were a couple of hundred wooden chairs laid out in rows and people were milling about waiting for the talk to begin.
Shami Chakrabarti was giving the talk, and – unusually for her I think – she was going to finish by performing a few songs on her ukulele. Sally and I sat in the front row and somehow, quite suddenly, I had Shami Chakrabarti’s ukulele in my hands and I was trying and failing to play it. This was enormously frustrating because in real life I am shit hot on the ukulele. In the dream however, try as I might, my fingers would simply not do that which my brain asked of them.
Then all at once it came together and for about five seconds I played the most complex and hauntingly beautiful arrangement which has ever been played on any musical instrument, ever. But it didn't last long and it ended with me loudly and embarrassingly breaking two of the strings.
At which point, Shami Chakrabarti decided she needed her ukulele. When she saw what I’d done to it, she was furious, and I was mortified. Embarrassed and ashamed.
Suddenly, from nowhere, David Tennant appeared. He told me he’d smoothed things over with Shami and explained to her that I’m not a bad sort really, but if I wanted to get out of this situation with my dignity intact, I’d better get the ukulele fixed immediately. So I took off and ran for all I was worth through this rather quaint, slightly Dickensian town. I flew into the first music shop I found and asked about ukulele strings. I was in luck. Except for the fact that I hadn’t brought the ukulele with me. So I ran back to Shami, grabbed the ukelele, ran back to the shop, restrung the ukulele, then ran back again to the event where everyone was waiting. However, on that final stretch, that's where things turned awry. Suddenly, I found that no matter how hard I tried, I could no longer run.
I just couldn’t lift my legs. Like I was up to my hips in wet sand.
I began to panic. I couldn't breathe. I didn't think I was going to make it.
Then, quick as a flash, things changed and I was there.
I handed over the ukulele and everything was OK.
I woke up.
So.
What on earth can it mean?
Well, for me it’s obvious.
What it means is - simply - that everything is going to be alright.
Phew.
Have a lovely weekend.
