...can be a right bastard sometimes. Taking my life as a whole, I reckon I've been luckier than most, but this last week has been terrible. Even thinking about this message, and typing it out is giving me a headache that would do justice to the worst hangover of my life - which by the way was some 42 years ago now, and induced by a bottle of whisky and sheer bloody loneliness.
That was self inflicted though, not sure what this problem is. Feels a lot like this Mexican Flu thingy that's currently doing the rounds, though the nearest I've been to Mexico is Disney World in Florida, and the Cocina Restaurant on Manningham Lane, and it's been 10/12 years since I've been to either. Shivers and shakes; trembling fingers and that damn headache. Don't worry though, the health service has everything under control, they've managed to squeeze me in an appointment for Monday morning, by which time I'll either be :-
A. Dead
or
B. Fully recovered
God forbid it be the former, I've already paid the deposit on my Degree course and I bet the kids would struggle to get that refunded. Never mind... what's pissing me off most is that I can't write. String even a few words together and my headache starts banging away after the first couple of minutes. That's enough to put anyone off writing.
Never mind, there's always tomorrow - unless of course, the answer to the question I set earlier is A. Dead
In which case, I guess it's goodbye... oh, and thanks for all the fish...
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Hope you're feeling better soon, Chris. Just take the opportunity to rest up as much as you can. Some time out means you'll be raring to get back to your writing feeling more inspired. I don't know about the fish but number 42 is significant. :-)
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