I'm a day behind with my Sleep Log. On Sunday night I fell asleep around 12.30 and woke up at 6 sharp. I stretched and grumbled to myself and was just about to put my sleep mask on to blot out the daylight and try to catch a few more zees when something jerked me fully awake. I hadn't written my monthly horoscope column. It was due today, the 10th. Yesterday was the 9th. It takes me three days to do. Help!
I got up, turned on the computer, grabbed my Ephemeris (a book which shows the positions of the planets for every day in the year) and, without drawing out the chart and writing down my observations, I just launched straight in, finished it four hours later, then dashed off into London for my monthly writers' lunch with members of the Freelance Media Group in the notorious Groucho Club, scene of many a celeb writer's drunken night (and even drunken fight!).
Our speaker this time was Jill Hudson, editor of the UK version of Reader's Digest. We were all avidly taking notes but really, there were very few openings for freelance writers on the magazine so I ended feeling a little flat.
Afterwards (and after accidentally biting into a wrap that looked as if it had a slice of salami in it but it turned out to be a lethal red pepper that upset my stomach for the rest of the day even though I spat most of it out), I travelled to north London to look at two flats for sale, both of which were useless. One had a study looking straight out over the A1, and the other backed onto a school; hopeless for a writer looking for peace and quiet!
By this time, my feet were aching and I was destined to make the 2 hour journey home in the rush hour, so I rang a friend who was luckily in, and sat at hers for the next two hours, drinking wine and munching M&S Cheese Twists!
Finally, I staggered off onto the Northern Line somewhat drunkenly, made a loo stop at King's Cross Station, caught the Hammersmith and City line to Paddington station, got the Heathrow Connect train to Hayes and Harlington and then Mr G kindly offered to pick me up and save me the bus ride plus 1 mile walk to get me to the front door.
Maybe you can see now why I want to move closer in to London! Every journey has at least three stages to it, sometimes four or five, like yesterday.
On top of my indigestion, I then felt obliged to eat the chicken curry Mr Grumpy had cooked. It was a little too hot and spicy for me so I had a Ranitidine for dessert.
Surprisingly, I fell asleep around midnight and didn't wake up till around half seven. But it was probably a drunken stupor!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment