Day 98 - old money, Sunday would have been Day 100 but for the sherry
Day 7 - new money - days since the sherry
Day -93 - now only 93 days until Day 100 Mark II
Make my mind up time. I think I'm going to stick with Day 98 - it's what it feels like to me. But remember Day 7 too. And anyway, the deal with Belle is penpal for a year - that's 365 days in old money. It's a bit like a bitcoin fork.
Learning how to open blister packs, finally. I've been trying to open them with my thumbnail which works until I cut my nails. Now I've RTFM.
Painting my table legs a very pale watery grey - seems to work. Funny how little black there is in grey. Hope I can scrub off the solider coats I tried first. The watery mix is more like a limewash - it lets the grain show through.
Sending Belle my photo of her book holding up my desk / keeping it level, and then another of it sitting on my bedside table with my morning tea.
Toby Young's pain in the Spectator. Ironic since this is what the Speccy routinely does to Corbyn et al. I commented as much, be interesting to see if anyone sees the (real) problem i.e. that no one cares about the truth, only that their side and their point of view obliterates everyone else, by whatever means available.
On (not) making plans for the day, and to do lists. To do lists are not lists of things I should / must do, they are reminders of things I might do sometime. If I am anxious about something, I add it to my to do list, and I feel better and stop worrying about it. I may, or may not, ever actually do it.
Felicity rings and says knock Metanoia on the head now. I will never finish it and it's in the way of me doing anything else (although of course it isn't, as I'm not doing anything about it but moan here about not doing it). Still she's right. I've kept setting deadlines which aren't really dead - so, come next Wednesday, it's either finished, or I'm finished with it. Bit like locking Douglas Adams in a hotel room until he finished Hitchhikers Guide.
Nice options to consider. To Bonnevaux, maybe, with my caravan to help with re-furbishing the chateau. To Naxos, maybe, to share Stuart's stately pile (and expenses) and write, walk, paint, carve. Or stay here, and let the Hairy Elf build pallet palaces, or at least furniture for same, and work at the poly factory and generally be a Suffolk person.
One option not on the table - becoming a crypto speculator on IGIndex. Expensive, risky, all time consuming, and not very rewarding (in any sense). Have now wasted two mornings on it.
Managed to send Stuart some money via Moneygram and it only cost £2.49 - Triodos would have charged £25 and Western Union seem to think I'm some sort of international criminal fraudster. It hasn't arrived yet, hopefully it's not lost in the black hole of the Greek banking system.
I went shopping with my new panniers today, which are brilliant. They are big enough to take all my shopping but too heavy for the bike so I borrowed Johnny's car and drove it home. I spent a lot of money on treats (pate, cheese, biscuits, ice creams - anything I fancied basically). I hadn't realised how much I still censor my spending as if I was spending on alcohol.
Belle's magic stone has arrived. It looks like one of Columba's tears. I have hung it above my bed, to watch over me at night.
Day 7 - new money - days since the sherry
Day -93 - now only 93 days until Day 100 Mark II
Make my mind up time. I think I'm going to stick with Day 98 - it's what it feels like to me. But remember Day 7 too. And anyway, the deal with Belle is penpal for a year - that's 365 days in old money. It's a bit like a bitcoin fork.
Learning how to open blister packs, finally. I've been trying to open them with my thumbnail which works until I cut my nails. Now I've RTFM.
Painting my table legs a very pale watery grey - seems to work. Funny how little black there is in grey. Hope I can scrub off the solider coats I tried first. The watery mix is more like a limewash - it lets the grain show through.
Sending Belle my photo of her book holding up my desk / keeping it level, and then another of it sitting on my bedside table with my morning tea.
Toby Young's pain in the Spectator. Ironic since this is what the Speccy routinely does to Corbyn et al. I commented as much, be interesting to see if anyone sees the (real) problem i.e. that no one cares about the truth, only that their side and their point of view obliterates everyone else, by whatever means available.
On (not) making plans for the day, and to do lists. To do lists are not lists of things I should / must do, they are reminders of things I might do sometime. If I am anxious about something, I add it to my to do list, and I feel better and stop worrying about it. I may, or may not, ever actually do it.
Felicity rings and says knock Metanoia on the head now. I will never finish it and it's in the way of me doing anything else (although of course it isn't, as I'm not doing anything about it but moan here about not doing it). Still she's right. I've kept setting deadlines which aren't really dead - so, come next Wednesday, it's either finished, or I'm finished with it. Bit like locking Douglas Adams in a hotel room until he finished Hitchhikers Guide.
Nice options to consider. To Bonnevaux, maybe, with my caravan to help with re-furbishing the chateau. To Naxos, maybe, to share Stuart's stately pile (and expenses) and write, walk, paint, carve. Or stay here, and let the Hairy Elf build pallet palaces, or at least furniture for same, and work at the poly factory and generally be a Suffolk person.
One option not on the table - becoming a crypto speculator on IGIndex. Expensive, risky, all time consuming, and not very rewarding (in any sense). Have now wasted two mornings on it.
Managed to send Stuart some money via Moneygram and it only cost £2.49 - Triodos would have charged £25 and Western Union seem to think I'm some sort of international criminal fraudster. It hasn't arrived yet, hopefully it's not lost in the black hole of the Greek banking system.
I went shopping with my new panniers today, which are brilliant. They are big enough to take all my shopping but too heavy for the bike so I borrowed Johnny's car and drove it home. I spent a lot of money on treats (pate, cheese, biscuits, ice creams - anything I fancied basically). I hadn't realised how much I still censor my spending as if I was spending on alcohol.
Belle's magic stone has arrived. It looks like one of Columba's tears. I have hung it above my bed, to watch over me at night.
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