A confession

My week of being ill and out of sorts. I've spent so much time surfing - checking up on 'boyfriend' gawker etc rather than just being ill. Isn't that an art? Learning to be ill rather than running away from it - distracting myself from it?

I keep on making plans despite being ill. Today I got up very late sat outside and drank coffee and wrote my morning pages. I wrote how I'd do lots of housework and finally SORT OUT THE FLAT! Meanwhile cats jumped up and down on me, I chatted to neighbours over the fence. I went inside and blogged. Eventually I left the house (it is an utterly gorgeous if cold day) to buy supplies and on the way posted some postcards to students and friends. As I stood staring at the box (quelle horreur! our postal service is to become even more spotty) I was surprised by an ex-lodger of mine who appeared out of the Central Bar. (Fantastic place amazing 19th tiles on the wall, and made - well -celebrated by Irvine Welsh).

We had a chat and I expounded my general gloom and malaise due to illness / work / life. He suddenly said 'Do you have 3 minutes?' so I found myself in William Hills trying to decided which horse to but a bet on at Uttoxter 5.30. In the end the Bunnotted Belle despite being third for some of the race was trounced. Not that I should have been surprised at 18 to 1. Anyway for the 5 mins or so the race was being run and our horse was doing well I had this surge of exhilaration.

Of course after it lost I put the bet in my bag and trotted off to get my messages.

I put in a whole sleugh of emails this afternoon trying to organise get togethers and take my mind off the way I feel. Oddly enough after this serendipitous encounter I think I'll stop. I'm making my dinner I'm going to enjoy eating it and just veg out with my knitting hopefully not too terrible TV and stop feeling guilty about surfing for pictures of my 'boyfriend'. Basically stop fighting to make myself they way I feel I ought to be.