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Why the blog gets it near assignment deadlines

Because it’s there. It’s its job. It doesn’t answer back.

When given 6000+ words on subjects not of my choice I can only clear my mind by writing an equal quantity of words on matters of my own choice. This is, however, a knackering approach to life when combined with actual work and stuff. Yesterday was odd. I spent two hours in a meeting which gave me a bit of a headache. Some of it was about logistics; logistics give me a headache.

Then I was in work trying to finish a report (assignment), the title of which is too boring to repeat. It turned out it was nearly too boring to write and enforced sitting at the desk made me delirious. Fortunately I was sitting between two good colleagues who were unperturbed by my Tourettes-like muttering, gripping onto the edge of the desk, typing swear words to myself in bold, and generally interrupting them from time to time. One gave me some talking therapy, the other fetched me a cup of tea. I was careful to thank them when I left. I am sure they breathed a sigh of relief, amongst other things.

Then I came home and drank some Christmas spirit very quickly, so it wouldn’t really count, and went to bed at about 6 pm. I woke up later and could not move. I was definitely awake. It felt like someone was holding my left hand. Actually it was just twisted up under my head at an awkward angle, but, as I said, I could NOT MOVE. I had a pain in my chest. I wondered if I was having a heart attack. I remembered that which I usually forget, that I have a heart murmur – perhaps it was now fatal. Then I remembered that which I always remember – that I have scarred lungs. This never pleases me. I still couldn’t move but my mouth worked so I called for water and the asthma pump – the pump doesn’t work but I use it for its placebo effect – my daughter brought them, kindly but with harsh words you would reserve the right to use when your mother has taken to her bed before you do.

Then I wondered if this was the dramatic sudden onset of my annual Christmas chest infection. Anyway, I am still here. The QA/QIP report awaits me – I am hoping that getting all that off my chest means I can get on with it without having another attack of paralysing fatigue and delirium. You see, much of this stuff is all in the mind. Now I can leave it on the blog and I none of the above will happen…

We will see.

A ceiling