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Wednesday Night, Thursday Morning
Have to write two lectures. One for Thursday. One for Friday. But someone else must see Friday's as they'll give it too.
Don't get out the pub until 8.45. Didn't want to snub B by leaving as he turned up. Then talked to Pete the Fish. Had offered him my stool as I was on my way out soon. Refused it. Then Professor Bob talked to me. Hey, you listen when Fellows of the RSC and members of Pugwash talk at you. It was about his pension. Again.
Got out at 8.45 in the end. Went home via the chippie. Need calories. 9.00. Grand Designs and tea on lap. Cut it short at second ad break.
Friday's lecture first. Ah. R hasn't attached the files to his email - contact him for the stuff, decided to write tomorrow and next week's revision lectures instead. Fortunately there is last year's draft. Discover someone has taken my email about lowering the tone seriously. Oops.
Ah, email from N in NZ. Missed him for 40 minutes; he will have left the cafe. Email him in case. Forget to attach a file. It's catching. Email again. Oops, it's hit 2am. No sense in going straight bed so do washing up and piss. Time for bed.
I flick through Paradoxa's Uncanny issue and read a bit more of Jezebel's Daughter. Set alarms, as need to be in for nine-ish and will have to buy lunch on way in. 2.30 lights out.
Toss, turn, toss turn.
Hey, the pillow feels like those braile messages they have on pavements at traffic lights.
Toss, turn, toss turn.
3.00. What was Larkin's line. "3am. Wanking again"?
Toss, turn, toss turn.
No, not getting to sleep. Can't count sheep. Do the ping pong thing. One two ping pong five ping seven pong ping ten eleven ping-pong ping pong ping pong seventeen. Fifty four is the one that gets you. Ping pong ping pong - dammit ping-pong.
Nope. To. Tomo. Tomorrow. Tomorrow and. Tomorrow and to. Tomorrow and tomo.
One two ping pong five ping seven pong ping ten eleven ping-pong ping pong ping pong seventeen ping nineteen pong. Throw duvet off.
Toss, turn, toss turn.
Retrieve duvet.
Toss, turn, toss turn.
It sounds like it's raining. Maybe that's keeping me awake. 3.30.
Toss, turn, toss turn.
A milky drink. But I have no milk. Water will have to do. Kitchen tap, hope the pint glass is clean. I've missed the start of the four am news. Have a slash. Of course the water will probably make me need to piss again. Back to bed.
Toss, turn, toss turn.
The milk lorry goes by.
Toss, turn, toss turn.
Four thirty. Have I any emails to answer? One from, what, Monday, and a couple from yesterday afternoon, and one from a week ago. Oops. Read tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow's Grudniad. Head back to bed.
Christ, it's getting light. The birds are singing, fuck it. Go back to roosting.
Ten minutes later they are drowned out by revelry. How long can it take to walk home from Baa Bars? They shut at three.
Toss, turn, toss turn.
Do I need a piss?
Zzzzzz
7.15, first alarm. Needn't get up just yet. Listen to the half past bulletin.
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
9.00. Arg.
Don't get out the pub until 8.45. Didn't want to snub B by leaving as he turned up. Then talked to Pete the Fish. Had offered him my stool as I was on my way out soon. Refused it. Then Professor Bob talked to me. Hey, you listen when Fellows of the RSC and members of Pugwash talk at you. It was about his pension. Again.
Got out at 8.45 in the end. Went home via the chippie. Need calories. 9.00. Grand Designs and tea on lap. Cut it short at second ad break.
Friday's lecture first. Ah. R hasn't attached the files to his email - contact him for the stuff, decided to write tomorrow and next week's revision lectures instead. Fortunately there is last year's draft. Discover someone has taken my email about lowering the tone seriously. Oops.
Ah, email from N in NZ. Missed him for 40 minutes; he will have left the cafe. Email him in case. Forget to attach a file. It's catching. Email again. Oops, it's hit 2am. No sense in going straight bed so do washing up and piss. Time for bed.
I flick through Paradoxa's Uncanny issue and read a bit more of Jezebel's Daughter. Set alarms, as need to be in for nine-ish and will have to buy lunch on way in. 2.30 lights out.
Toss, turn, toss turn.
Hey, the pillow feels like those braile messages they have on pavements at traffic lights.
Toss, turn, toss turn.
3.00. What was Larkin's line. "3am. Wanking again"?
Toss, turn, toss turn.
No, not getting to sleep. Can't count sheep. Do the ping pong thing. One two ping pong five ping seven pong ping ten eleven ping-pong ping pong ping pong seventeen. Fifty four is the one that gets you. Ping pong ping pong - dammit ping-pong.
Nope. To. Tomo. Tomorrow. Tomorrow and. Tomorrow and to. Tomorrow and tomo.
One two ping pong five ping seven pong ping ten eleven ping-pong ping pong ping pong seventeen ping nineteen pong. Throw duvet off.
Toss, turn, toss turn.
Retrieve duvet.
Toss, turn, toss turn.
It sounds like it's raining. Maybe that's keeping me awake. 3.30.
Toss, turn, toss turn.
A milky drink. But I have no milk. Water will have to do. Kitchen tap, hope the pint glass is clean. I've missed the start of the four am news. Have a slash. Of course the water will probably make me need to piss again. Back to bed.
Toss, turn, toss turn.
The milk lorry goes by.
Toss, turn, toss turn.
Four thirty. Have I any emails to answer? One from, what, Monday, and a couple from yesterday afternoon, and one from a week ago. Oops. Read tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow's Grudniad. Head back to bed.
Christ, it's getting light. The birds are singing, fuck it. Go back to roosting.
Ten minutes later they are drowned out by revelry. How long can it take to walk home from Baa Bars? They shut at three.
Toss, turn, toss turn.
Do I need a piss?
Zzzzzz
7.15, first alarm. Needn't get up just yet. Listen to the half past bulletin.
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
9.00. Arg.