Tra la la

by Michael

Oh dear. Well my intention was to post something every day this week, based on stuff I’ve been collecting and reflecting on in the months since my ‘regular’ blogging ended way back in May. But this has not happened.

I haven’t been feeling so well in myself – cough, headaches, nausea, occasionally aching bones. It could all be psychosomatic manifestations of the stress associated with looking after Edie so much this week, but that doesn’t feel quite right. And I haven’t been at work, and neither am I particularly worried by anything at work. A more likely potential source of this stress, however, is my perennial disfavourite: the stress of my own expectations. By thinking this week was going to be a watershed in my writing productivity, perhaps I have shot myself in the foot, or overegged the pudding or some other suitably self-defeating metaphor.

There are two things I am in the middle of (long term) that do not require much effort but add up to something relatively meaningful: the translating of Bachelard (which will take me years but I’m not in any rush) and the uploading of my Discreet Dictionary (I have reached I, but have yet to find myself (fnah, fnah)). I will endeavour to do just those two things between Thursday and Monday – well, those and a bit of hoovering and ironing (oh, the glamour!).

If my cunning plan works, in as much as by jettisoning everything else my own psychological burdens become that much lighter to the extent that I am able to relax and do some extra stuff, then that will be a bonus.

It is not all doom and gloom: Edie is a delight and massively entertaining. It is lovely to spend a bit more time with her – but I will be sooooo glad when Sophie gets back!!