I keep waking up with a slight headache, which seems odd given I'm taking aspirin every evening to help with my dislocated right jaw, and I'm sober, and I am drinking a lot of liquids. And I never get headaches. 'spect it's a brain tumour. Seems to wear off pretty quickly.
My phone has four daily reminders - Metanoia (7am), meditation (8am), meditation (pm) and screens off (10pm). It's not that I treat them like orders, more just that - i.e. reminders, don't forget, give this some priority and time, but don't beat myself up if for whatever reason I don't follow the schedule. As Belle says, days aren't necessarily perfect, just an improvement. I remember a few years ago in Wefan getting a bee in my headdress about getting a grip and drawing up a daily timetable for myself, of meditation, exercise, writing etc etc and it made me incredibly depressed. It seemed so boring. I never even tried it. Wrote the plan down, and then threw it in the bin. It doesn't seem that way now. Not working helps - there's room for manoeuvre, so I'm not stressing about fitting x, y and z in before I have to leave for work. And having one over arching priority - to get to Day 42 / 50 / 100 whatever. And all these things help with that, where before it was just a kind of vague self improvement plan (and implicit in it that a) I was crap for not being self-disciplined and b) a failure because I wouldn't stick to the plan), and I've never been very good at giving things up, doing things because they're good for me, being disciplined and sticking to a routine. Yet here I am, slurping 15ml of cod liver oil every morning, because it's good for me. And weirdly, I'm enjoying it.
There is one thing lurking in the psychic undergrowth - the suspicion / feeling that all this attention on me and my concerns, self love, is just that - selfish. Who is saying / thinking this? 'wolfie' to use B's image? I'm not sure. Catholic guilt, a bit. But in the end I don't give a shit - if it's working, if it's adding another sober day to the pile, nothing else matters. If I ever get to day 100 - I can worry about this ridiculous moral conundrum then. It's not as if being a selfless drunk was actually working very well, so why not try selfish and sober?
Nice to talk to Jane about her haynets, not being drunk, not losing my temper and, I think, being able to see clearly what her problem is (trying to use her competitor's supplier to make her haynets - it won't work and they'll always keep screwing her around because Shires has the whip hand over them. But Jane has sorted the patents, distribution, and with her accessory kit, she could buy in ordinary nets and sell them with her (relatively simple) patented gizmo - no more supply issues. I think she'll think about it. She's wasting so much of her time and energy trying to fight Shires, instead of running around them. She could even end up buying in ordinary nets from Shires!
My date tomorrow stood me up. Said she'd met a man and wanted to try him out eclusively. I wondered if she'd had cold feet like me. I was relieved really. Texted H and asked her for lunch tomorrow instead but she has her gardener coming so we agreed I'd cycle over to her for the evening and stay the night, which feels much nicer.
Made a massive pollo sarsa with a somewhat smelly / dubious chicken. Laura's new divining rods (she's looking for a spring in the garden which is undermining the barn they are restoring) told her the chicken was not poisonous. It smelt like a very over hung pheasant. Anyway I ate it tonight, so we'll see if I survive the night. Also massive celeriac mash with carrots, potatoes, celery and onions. And cabbage. Both very tasty. So have filled the freezer with meals (time for a bit of an economy drive anyway). I've made a start on my table, so far so good, and a new model of how the legs will work which I'm much happier with. Zigar zigar.
Belle's next 20 instalments arrived. I read it before lunch, and sent her my notes. It's very good, but left me hanging on at the end on a bit of a bum note. Lots of echoes, especially of my leaving of the CoOp (rather less destructively than Rayna, the book's heroine, but she still seems to have her job).
Belle sent out an excellent OMM audio, very short, about getting too busy, writing immense to do lists and then not doing anything - been there, done a lot of that - and getting depressed and fed up and self pitying, for which of course the only answer is a half bottle of Scotch, and then some.
I've managed to blag Abellio Greater Anglia into booking my bike on the train from Ipswich to Liverpool Street (yesterday they denied it was possible and that there were no Inter City trains that stopped in Ipswich, with a guard's van that could take unfolding bikes). So I pretended I was catching the 7:04 from Norwich, which I am actually boarding in Ipswich, and they were perfectly happy and gave me a reservation number. I just have to print out the paperwork when I get to Saxmundham or Ipswich on Wednesday next week. V early - have to be in Saxmundham at 7:03.
Despite terrible warnings of 3 weeks of freezing weather, it's been mild and rainy today. Hopefully it won't rain on me when I cycle to Eye tomorrow afternoon - a good hour and a half, 17 miles, so good exercise and then back again on Thursday.
The chickens are definitely dead. Laura wrang their necks, in the bathroom, twice. Then they were bagged up to be taken up to the incinerator. They actually had quite a long life, for chickens, and certainly a happy one. And I shall immortalise them in a short story. I left Frank and Herbert discussing their fate in the bathroom. Hetty has done a runner and may be hiding in the woods. t.b.c.
I'm going to watch the end of The Boy with a Topknot before I go to sleep.
My phone has four daily reminders - Metanoia (7am), meditation (8am), meditation (pm) and screens off (10pm). It's not that I treat them like orders, more just that - i.e. reminders, don't forget, give this some priority and time, but don't beat myself up if for whatever reason I don't follow the schedule. As Belle says, days aren't necessarily perfect, just an improvement. I remember a few years ago in Wefan getting a bee in my headdress about getting a grip and drawing up a daily timetable for myself, of meditation, exercise, writing etc etc and it made me incredibly depressed. It seemed so boring. I never even tried it. Wrote the plan down, and then threw it in the bin. It doesn't seem that way now. Not working helps - there's room for manoeuvre, so I'm not stressing about fitting x, y and z in before I have to leave for work. And having one over arching priority - to get to Day 42 / 50 / 100 whatever. And all these things help with that, where before it was just a kind of vague self improvement plan (and implicit in it that a) I was crap for not being self-disciplined and b) a failure because I wouldn't stick to the plan), and I've never been very good at giving things up, doing things because they're good for me, being disciplined and sticking to a routine. Yet here I am, slurping 15ml of cod liver oil every morning, because it's good for me. And weirdly, I'm enjoying it.
There is one thing lurking in the psychic undergrowth - the suspicion / feeling that all this attention on me and my concerns, self love, is just that - selfish. Who is saying / thinking this? 'wolfie' to use B's image? I'm not sure. Catholic guilt, a bit. But in the end I don't give a shit - if it's working, if it's adding another sober day to the pile, nothing else matters. If I ever get to day 100 - I can worry about this ridiculous moral conundrum then. It's not as if being a selfless drunk was actually working very well, so why not try selfish and sober?
Nice to talk to Jane about her haynets, not being drunk, not losing my temper and, I think, being able to see clearly what her problem is (trying to use her competitor's supplier to make her haynets - it won't work and they'll always keep screwing her around because Shires has the whip hand over them. But Jane has sorted the patents, distribution, and with her accessory kit, she could buy in ordinary nets and sell them with her (relatively simple) patented gizmo - no more supply issues. I think she'll think about it. She's wasting so much of her time and energy trying to fight Shires, instead of running around them. She could even end up buying in ordinary nets from Shires!
My date tomorrow stood me up. Said she'd met a man and wanted to try him out eclusively. I wondered if she'd had cold feet like me. I was relieved really. Texted H and asked her for lunch tomorrow instead but she has her gardener coming so we agreed I'd cycle over to her for the evening and stay the night, which feels much nicer.
Made a massive pollo sarsa with a somewhat smelly / dubious chicken. Laura's new divining rods (she's looking for a spring in the garden which is undermining the barn they are restoring) told her the chicken was not poisonous. It smelt like a very over hung pheasant. Anyway I ate it tonight, so we'll see if I survive the night. Also massive celeriac mash with carrots, potatoes, celery and onions. And cabbage. Both very tasty. So have filled the freezer with meals (time for a bit of an economy drive anyway). I've made a start on my table, so far so good, and a new model of how the legs will work which I'm much happier with. Zigar zigar.
Belle's next 20 instalments arrived. I read it before lunch, and sent her my notes. It's very good, but left me hanging on at the end on a bit of a bum note. Lots of echoes, especially of my leaving of the CoOp (rather less destructively than Rayna, the book's heroine, but she still seems to have her job).
Belle sent out an excellent OMM audio, very short, about getting too busy, writing immense to do lists and then not doing anything - been there, done a lot of that - and getting depressed and fed up and self pitying, for which of course the only answer is a half bottle of Scotch, and then some.
I've managed to blag Abellio Greater Anglia into booking my bike on the train from Ipswich to Liverpool Street (yesterday they denied it was possible and that there were no Inter City trains that stopped in Ipswich, with a guard's van that could take unfolding bikes). So I pretended I was catching the 7:04 from Norwich, which I am actually boarding in Ipswich, and they were perfectly happy and gave me a reservation number. I just have to print out the paperwork when I get to Saxmundham or Ipswich on Wednesday next week. V early - have to be in Saxmundham at 7:03.
Despite terrible warnings of 3 weeks of freezing weather, it's been mild and rainy today. Hopefully it won't rain on me when I cycle to Eye tomorrow afternoon - a good hour and a half, 17 miles, so good exercise and then back again on Thursday.
The chickens are definitely dead. Laura wrang their necks, in the bathroom, twice. Then they were bagged up to be taken up to the incinerator. They actually had quite a long life, for chickens, and certainly a happy one. And I shall immortalise them in a short story. I left Frank and Herbert discussing their fate in the bathroom. Hetty has done a runner and may be hiding in the woods. t.b.c.
I'm going to watch the end of The Boy with a Topknot before I go to sleep.
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