and blow the dead moth off the windowsill. It feels like I haven't blogged for months. And it was all going so well...
Well, I seem to have stopped wanting to barf up all the time so perhaps I can flick pause off and carry on. Things are progressing without me and I feel like I have to run a little to catch up.
Though have things really changed that much while I was soaking in an is-this-really-happening-to-me-and-my-body limbo? I strongly suspect not. Not even for my uniquely distressful early gestation period nor my obviously genius future offspring will the world suddenly right itself and stop, sit up in class, listen for once and, after the umpteenth time of asking, finally behave itself. If it won't do it for Stephen Fry, then it won't do it for me.
So I think I've had enough of a break. Normality shall resume. More Boar - currently dallying around distressed king's wives - and maybe poems, and I have that jolly story set in the men's lavs to finish.
No comments:
Post a Comment